


Don't Leave

by navyfeather



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Dorks in Love, Drunken Confessions, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Minor Kíli/Tauriel, Pining, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 12:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navyfeather/pseuds/navyfeather
Summary: After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo is set on returning to The Shire. He wants to leave Erebor, but there are things making him doubt whether he should. He does not wish to leave Fíli and Kíli behind, who got injured during battle, and are in dire need of looking after... but most importantly, he's uncertain if he can leave Thorin behind... if he can at all
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 82
Kudos: 454
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crystalphobic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalphobic/gifts).

> Merry Christmas, PrinceJellyfish! ❤ I dearly hope you'll have a most wonderful holiday, an amazing new year, and that you will enjoy this story! 
> 
> _The same goes for all of you out there, as well! Merry Christmas!_

As a hobbit going on its first adventure, he had seen many things. Many more than any other hobbit ever had… At first, that had been intriguing, and exciting. Now, he wasn’t so very sure what to think of it anymore…

After all, what was one small hobbit in a hall full of injured dwarves, elves and humans…

With his hands still clutching at his clothes, he stared down at his grimy feet, clad with orc-blood and mud. He felt so awfully cold, and at a loss… He had survived the battle, but at what cost? So many around him had not been nearly as lucky, and it made his head toil. To hear so many of them in pain made him sick to his belly, and he’d wished to be somewhere else — anywhere else. But he couldn’t be. He dared not be.

“Laddie?” Bilbo glanced up briefly, shaken from his haze. Bofur was crouching before him, something he had not even noticed him doing. “Are ya alright?”

“I’ll… be okay.” He sniffed, trying to give Bofur one reassuring nod. It was not what he had done, for he could see Bofur’s eyes twist with pity, rather than comfort. “I need a moment.”

“If there is anything I can do,” he offered. Bilbo did not know what to say. “Come… How about we go and see a healer?”

“No. No, I won’t.”

Bofur’s brow kit together with concern. “But you’re bleeding, lad…” Bilbo absently brought his hand to his throbbing brow.

It was not enough. “Surely others are more injured.”

“Let me fetch someone. Anyone — “

“I said no,” Bilbo said stubbornly, feeling his head seize as he did. He gripped it and bent over. Bofur was immediately rubbing his back and hushing him, a sound that, frankly, only increased the pressure on his already tight skull.

He wasn’t lying, and he wasn’t trying to make it difficult on Bofur. He simply knew that there were many, many others out there that would be… quite literally dying for some aid. What was one rock to his head in comparison to…

Bilbo shook. He dared not even think of it.

To make matters even worse, his own friends had fallen victim to this battle. Luckily they had not paid with their lives, but they were severely wounded. And to add insult to that very injury, they were two of the youngest members of the company, two of the most innocent… and two he’d grown very fond of over the course of their journey.

“Ah. There you are.” Bilbo glanced up with watery eyes. Through the crowd moved a blur of grey. Bilbo had blinked hard — his vision was still a bit out of whack, but he needn’t see to know who that voice belonged to. “I’ve been worried. Bofur, I trust you have taken fine care of him.”

“I tried,” Bofur murmured silently. Again, his hand began to circle across Bilbo’s back. “How are the lads?”

This was something that drew Bilbo’s immediate attention. He was scared to listen, to hear any form of bad news… but any news was better than nothing at this point.

“They will be just fine,” Gandalf comforted them with. Bilbo had not expected to express his relief in an actual groan. “Fíli has taken quite a beating, but he has managed to keep his brother alive! Kíli will soon be feeling much better. Thorin is there with them now, to keep them calm. Only some small wounds, here and there, nothing lethal.” Gandalf leaned on his staff, grinning at the hobbit. “All thanks to you, my dear friend.”

It earned him a pat on his shoulder from Bofur, but Bilbo hardly felt any better because of it. He’d done fairly little to help, he had only come to warn them… Thorin and Dwalin had done the most, and had actually made sure Fíli and Kíli would come out alive. He dared not take responsibility nor pride for the survival of the boys. For now, he was glad they were alive, and yet he still feared deeply, so much he was trembling, even after this good news.

He was not invited to see Fíli and Kíli. Logical, he argued with himself, but he had been wishing to have a quick look, make sure they would be alright. But as long as Thorin was there with them, they would be. He would have to have faith in that. In him. Although, Bilbo had wished to see Thorin as well… He hadn’t seen him since the fight either, and… well, he would never admit it, but he had feared for him most. And even though his nephews were clearly more hurt than Thorin was, Bilbo still worried about him more than he did the boys.

That same night, he slept on the ground like everybody else. There were a few mats, but Bilbo loathed to use those. They stunk of his grandmother’s smial, dusty and stuffy, but also of ash and a bit too much like bacon, but not in a good way.

So, instead, he slumbered through a part of the night on the cold, stone floor, like he had done many nights in the Woodland Realm. It did not last, of course — with such a fierce headache and daunting nightmares, who could have expected him to sleep through the night? Not to mention that the sounds in the hall had never stilled, not for a moment, and Bilbo could not stand the sound of the others in pain for one second longer!

In the beginning of winter, no more than twelve hours since the battle, he sat outside the gates of Erebor, chilled to the bone by the low temperature, but also by the sight that stretched out before him. Smoke was still coming from Dale, even after so very long, and it would be even longer before they had cleared the fields. People were still moving about, people of all races — searching and carrying. Bilbo hugged himself, sending a blessing to Yavanna for not having taken one of his own friends.

“Master Baggins?”

Bilbo whipped his head around, never having felt so urgent before to answer a call, but hissed a moment later. He held onto his sore head, that was now spinning again. “Yes,” he ground out. “I’m here.”

A heavy step came moving over, accompanied by a small tick. “Are you hurt? Have you not been looked after?”

Wetting his lips, he glanced up again, moving his head more slowly. Thorin stood beside him, wearing no fancy, fur cloak to keep him warm, but a simple, brown rag, something possibly related to a potato sack. “A small mishap,” Bilbo decided to say. “How are Fíli and Kíli?”

“They are well.” Thorin grinned at him. “Had it not been for you — “

“It was hardly of my doing, Thorin,” he muttered irritably.

Thorin raised his brow at him, only it vanished all too soon. He sighed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. “I owe you my apologies, Bilbo… For what I have done, for the things I have said…”

Bilbo averted his gaze. He’d tried hard not to think about it, and in all honesty, he was not upset with Thorin. He did not hold his corruption against him. What had been said had been said, and what had been done, well — one might argue that Bilbo had it coming. Stealing the most valuable stone right from underneath Thorin’s nose! His wrath had not been misplaced, nor had his action been. Yes, his back still hurt a bit, but that was not what had mattered to him.

What had upset him was quite simple, in a way. At the same time, to him, it was terribly confusing.

It had started… probably somewhere during their imprisonment in Mirkwood. They had spent several days there, locked behind bars, underfed and forgotten. Bilbo had scouted all the dwarves, assured their health and safety, but he’d found himself clinging to Thorin’s cell the most. Their leader had been particularly withdrawn and silent, often huddled away in the corner, his hands in his hair or face hidden behind his knees. During the most troublesome endeavor that was the barrel ride, Bilbo had fussed most about Thorin, keeping a constant eye on him best he may. From that point on, having to watch Thorin slide through the water, dodging arrows and spears tossed in their direction, he’d felt… something new. Something that had made his stomach ticklish. While he’d first blamed it on his cold, he’d found it harder to ignore when he felt those same flutters again, and again, until they caused him to see Thorin as something  _ more _ .

Then came the time he spent together with Thorin in Erebor, and those ‘feelings’ had definitely grown beyond reasonable proportions. Thorin had treated him like his most treasured possession, and while — yes, being seen as something to be owned had made him furious, at times, but having Thorin loom over him… Not with an ill mind, but with a strong desire to protect, to keep safe, to look after…

He glanced up at Thorin again. He looked so very worn, and tired… Not illogical, no… but still a sorry sight. Bilbo didn't have it in him to potentially make him feel even worse. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told Thorin. “I did something awful, you were right to — “

“I wasn’t. And I need you not to justify my wrongdoings,” he said urgently. Bilbo sighed. “I hope to take back my words and my deeds at the gate.”

“Then so you have,” Bilbo said, smiling weakly. He could see Thorin relax, and a moment later, he grinned from one corner of his lips. “How is your foot?”

Thorin was currently wearing only one single boot. His other foot was bare but bandaged, held into the air by the support Thorin could find on his simple crutch. “Hardly worth mentioning. Óin suspects I’ll be able to walk again in less than a month.”

“That’s wonderful,” Bilbo hummed. “The boys?”

Thorin looked briefly at the rock Bilbo was sitting on. Needing to hear nothing — rather, knowing Thorin would never step over his pride and just ask, Bilbo scooted to the right. “Please, there is no need — “

“I insist. Sit.” Bilbo patted with his flat hand on the surface. Thorin hopped over a bit awkwardly, but managed to sit down.

“Fíli has caught the worst of it,” Thorin said solemnly. “He’s bruised to the bone, but he is awake, much unlike Kíli… I fear a lot for him, too. Óin suspects that any wound inflicted will set off a festering of that poison, the one that had been on the arrow. It is still in his blood and as of now, he —  _ we _ are uncertain whether there is a way or not to see that resolved…”

“Oh dear,” Bilbo whispered, seeing Thorin close his eyes. “I’m so very sorry, Thorin.”

Thorin then held his hands together. “Other than that… Fíli suffers from a broken bone, one in his arm. He cannot move it for a good while. He also took a blow to his sheen, which is now awfully fragile. There are a few cuts here and there, nothing major. If we care enough for them, they should heal decently. Kíli sustained mostly flesh wounds. For now, that is nothing to be worried about. If that poison does end up being a problem, then… we’re not so very sure.”

Bilbo bowed his head slowly, looking down at his own, swinging feet. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Look after them. That is all.”

He nodded sluggishly, and then turned his head to look at Thorin. “And you?” Bilbo asked quietly. Thorin met his gaze. “What with the… gold, and war, and…”

He’d drawn a sigh from Thorin that instantly made him regret having asked that question. Thorin shrunk together, pushing his hands through his filthy, messy hair. “I’m… uncertain.”

This wasn’t what he had hoped to achieve with this conversation. Though, to be fair, he wasn’t sure what else would have happened. Or what he had supposed would happen.

“First things first. A place for us to live. I will send some men to clean the Royal Quarters, so we can seek shelter. I will see to it that you will have your own house. This, I promise.”

“My own house?” he asked. “Thorin, I’m… I’m not staying.”

Thorin looked up in shock.

“I’m leaving with Gandalf.”

“What?” Thorin breathed, clearly taken aback. “Already?”

Bilbo shrugged, looking back at the battlefield. None too soon, if you’d ask him. “Gandalf will leave when he is ready, and I’ll try to be, as well.”

“Oh...”

“Thorin, I’m sorry, but this is no place for me to stay. I will miss you, and the company, but this —  _ this  _ is not my home. I have grown very attached to everybody, and this journey, it has been the best thing that has ever happened to me, but this is… I don’t belong here…”

“And… there is nothing to sway your mind?” Thorin asked him quietly.

Bilbo sighed, knowing not exactly what to say. Perhaps because the truth was a touch too bitter right now.

Yes, he adored them — all of them! And he was especially fond of Thorin, and worried for Fíli and Kíli… But this was not destined to be his life, wasn’t it? No mountain could ever feel like home, not to him. Gandalf would leave soon, and while he was not entirely ready to say his farewells, he was most certainly not happy with the idea of housing himself here, beneath pillars of stone, entirely deprived of daylight and warmth.

He’d wanted to answer, but Balin was there first, suddenly not only in earshot, but also in their view. “Thorin, come, it’s the lads,” he said.

Nothing else needed saying. Thorin hopped off the stone at once and followed Balin, heeding not the wound on his foot. Bilbo made sure to follow them — he wasn’t certain what this was about, but he didn’t feel like he should remain seated to find out!

A separate chamber was kept unoccupied for Fíli and Kíli, one that was grand and, to Bilbo’s utmost delight, warm. He hadn’t felt such a heat in the mountain since Smaug was trying to have them for dinner!

“What is amiss?” Thorin asked, surging over to them. Bilbo approached slowly. They were both asleep.

“Fevers,” Óin muttered angrily, bustling about in the chamber. “Kíli’s got the highest one.”

Ignoring his wound, Thorin hurried over to Kíli’s bedside, and took his head in his hands, feeling his brow. “What can you do?” Thorin asked.

“What anyone can against a fever. Very little,” Óin complained. “And they’re not the only ones, I’ve heard several reports now, not to mention that the flu seems to be spreading like wildfire!”

“Óin, what can we do?” Thorin urged.

Óin stopped walking, frowning at Thorin. “Nothing.” The chamber fell deadly silent. “What we can do is look after them and their wounds, but that is all we can do, Thorin.” Bilbo watched with big eyes, afraid of making the littlest sound. “That is all  _ I _ can do, right now. There’s many people to look after, and too little hands and knowledge to do it.”

“Then tell us what we need to know!” Thorin’s words thundered through the small room.

Everybody looked instantly wary. Bilbo could tell that it was nothing but worry, but the others didn’t look as convinced. In fact, Dwalin flashed a set of very concerned eyes.

“He’s right,” Bilbo quickly said. Even Thorin was caught off guard by it. “If it’s something like changing their bandages, we can see to it, and you can aid others. We’ll bring them somewhere safe, and the rest of us can tend to their wounds. Clean them, bandage them.”

Óin nodded very slowly for a moment, deep in thought, and then looked over to Thorin. “Very well. I’ll tell you. Give me a moment — “

“Is there not something we can do now?” Thorin prompted impatiently, following Óin’s steps, much to Óin’s displease.

“Perhaps we could prepare them a chamber. Clean out a house for them, find someone to look after them. We can house them there for the moment being, it’ll be much safer than they are here, I wager.”

“I know where,” Thorin said, shooting a couple of glances towards some of the other dwarves. Bilbo, he skipped. “Follow me. We don’t need many hands, not if we act efficiently.”

Bilbo held up his hand, scraping his throat loudly. “Excuse me, hello.” Thorin halted his pace out of the room, looking at him. “I’m a hobbit. I can clean.”

“I… did not suggest you are incapable — “

“I’d fancy a job of cleaning cobwebs over patching up injured dwarves, I hope you know,” he said. Thorin went a bit red in his face, swiftly diverting his gaze. “I have no other use here, let me help. If anyone knows how to make a home hospitable!”

“Master Baggins, with all due respect…” Bilbo hated that sentence. He folded his arms and raised his nose, knowing that, whatever would come next, would not be respectful. “You are hurt, and I wish for you not to exhaust yourself… It’s late, you should be resting.”

Bilbo’s strong composure began to sag away.

“I don’t want you to get any more hurt than you already are,” Thorin murmured, his voice muted, as though he was afraid someone would overhear. He stood very closely to him, holding onto his shoulder. “I only entrust you to look after them,” he then said. After having heard that, it was impossible for Bilbo to look even remotely tough, or offended. “I know they will be safe in your hands, and if possible, I’d keep them nowhere else but there… Would you do me this service? I promise to pay more mind to your wishes in the future — “

“No, no — don’t be absurd.” Bilbo sniffed, shifting on his feet. “I will look after them. I will. They’ll be safe.”

Thorin smiled at him, making Bilbo’s heart flutter. “Thank you,” he said.

Biting down on his lip to keep himself from smiling like a loon, he watched Thorin and some others leave the chamber. Only Óin and himself remained, and suddenly, the atmosphere was a lot less comfortable. Óin was definitely not in his best graces, and no wonder — Fíli and Kíli did not look very well.

Bilbo strode to their bedside, standing between both beds, and took a cloth from a bucket to press it on Fíli’s forehead. The boy stirred, but didn’t do much else.

“They’ll be fine,” Óin said, out of the blue. Bilbo hummed, needing not to be consoled. “As long as someone will stay with them, all should be well. They’ll be healed before Durin can dig up a Balrog!”

He had no idea what it meant, but he smiled regardless, knowing very well Óin could use any form of support right now, even if it meant showing him that he was indeed very funny! And it had not been in vain, for it had earned him Óin’s first smile since the battle.

For now, he could help out where he was needed. At some point, Kíli did wake up. As far as waking up went, of course — he was severely disoriented and exhausted, so there was hardly any reasoning to be done with him. But it did not matter. Kíli woke up, and was almost instantly at ease, seeing Bilbo hover above him. “Did we win?” Kíli whispered, his voice gravelly, and currently heavier than his uncle’s.

Bilbo shushed him, smoothing the wet rag across his hot brow. “We have,” he assured him, “And everybody is alive…”

“Even Fíli?” he asked hoarsely. “And Tauriel?”

“They are. Everybody is well… You are the odd number out,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

Kíli whined briefly, closing his eyes. “Mum‘s going to kill me…”

“She would never.” He rinsed the cloth and left it on Kíli’s brow. However, before he could move away to fetch Kíli some clean water to drink, he was held by his wrist. Kíli was holding onto it tightly, nearly pinching bruises, but Bilbo remained calm and hushed him again, turning back around. “What is it, Kíli?”

“Will you stay?” he asked miserably, his grip growing ever firmer.

Bilbo wet his lips. He did not hesitate, of course, but he wasn’t sure how to reply to it, either.

He managed to remove the bonds of Kíli’s hand by holding onto it, and bringing it back to rest on the bed, where it had been before. “Stay put, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” Kíli’s expectant eyes were still on him, and even with a smile, Bilbo didn’t manage to pry them off him. “I will,” he said, for now. “I’m not going anywhere, Kíli. Not until you feel better.”

That had done it. Kíli grinned ever so weakly, and was seemingly okay with giving in to his sleep. Bilbo sighed, but was happy that Kíli, at least, would be well.

Both of them would be, he told himself. There was no need to despair, as long as they would be looked after! Certainly there would be someone to do it! They would heal whether he was here or in the Shire, right? Someone would fend for them. Maybe… Ori! Yes, or perhaps Bofur! And surely Thorin would come and have a look, if he’d have the time!

But what if they wouldn’t? What if no one would have the time? Would they get sick? Would they die? Thorin would never let that happen, but… they were dwarves, they had more to do here than look after some others… And had Thorin not asked it of  _ him _ ? That he was the only one he entrusted with his close kin. Besides, it wasn't as though Bilbo could be put to any other use in this mountain!

Looking at them now put that thought in a whole new light. There was something he could do. Something of great importance… But he wasn’t sure if he truly could. Or should.

A chuckle from Óin broke his thought. “Are you with me, laddie?”

“Yes, yes — sorry about that.” He swiftly wavered it off. “A sticky thought.”

“A troublesome one?” Óin sympathized.

Bilbo threw a glance at the boys, hearing himself let out an exasperated sigh. “The most troublesome I’ve had yet…”


	2. Chapter 2

Looking after the boys had sounded appealing, at first… Or no, it had sounded important! Yes, like a task he ought to take seriously!

But he could hardly take their whining seriously, could he?

Bilbo was carrying a bucket of fresh water through the room, putting his back into it while it felt like he was dragging several stones behind him. But at least there was water!

“Hey!” Bilbo barked through the room. Fíli looked up at him at once. “No escaping the bed!”

Fíli fell back down with a grunt. “I told you, I am fine — “

“You are not fine until I permit you to be fine, now under the covers, you!” Bilbo set the bucket down and hurried over, dragging the blankets back over Fíli’s body. They were like two newborn animals, and could hardly be contained at all! If he had eyes on one, the other would try and slip their way out of their bed. Both of them had injured legs, and he didn’t even want to get started about the fact that they both had a fever!

After having tucked a very malcontent Fíli back in the bed, he rubbed his hands together, blew them for warmth, and picked the bucket back up by its rope. “Let me help — “

“There is no reason for you to help, Fíli. I am quite capable!” He set the bucket down by the bedside, letting out a triumphant laugh. “See! Bucket.” There was a loud cough coming from the room beside him, so he firmly pointed his finger at Fíli. “Don’t even think about getting out.”

He then made his way to Kíli’s bedroom, his pace quick while he did. Kíli was arched off the bed, coughing loudly into his fist. His face was pale, but he didn’t look unwell.

Bilbo picked up the wet cloth from where it had fallen from Kíli’s brow, and guided him back onto the bed when he was done coughing, shushing him and offering him a cup of water, one Kíli hadn’t touched yet. “Please drink something,” Bilbo begged, for at least the tenth time today. “Óin told me you had to.”

“I’m not thirsty…”

“And I am not in the mood to put up a fight, will you please.”

Kíli’s shaky hand finally reached out for the cup. Good. At long last!

Bilbo watched him drink, making sure Kíli wasn’t faking it. He’d done it twice already, and he did not enjoy being fooled like that. “Very good,” he complimented, taking the cup from Kíli’s trembling hand.

He marched straight to the kitchen. Or, what he assumed was a kitchen… He used it as such, that was for sure. The houses in the Royal Quarter were huge, and a part of him believed that there might be multiple kitchens in here. He had not yet taken the time to explore, he ought to do that soon, he thought to himself, but he hadn’t had the time yet. After all, it had only been four hours since the boys had been brought here.

To the credit of the others, they’d done a most outstanding job cleaning. For now, Bilbo heard himself think, because finding a speck of dust was no challenge! All he’d have to do was swipe across a surface and his finger would be grey with it! Surely his kindred would give him quite the earful about the mess that was this very house!

He just stood on his toes, reaching out for some gifted rations of food, when the pain in his head struck again. He moaned and fell back on his soles, holding onto his head. It had yet to heal, mainly due to the fact that he wasn’t giving it the rest it so desperately needed… Óin had bandaged it, yes, but that was all that had been done since. He hadn’t closed an eye, he hadn’t seated himself — he had even neglected several meals! And that ought to be the worst of it. With his head, he could deal. With his empty stomach, however…

By the time the front door opened, Bilbo hadn’t yet found the strength to stop squinting and straighten his face. “Master Baggins?” he heard Thorin ask.

“Kitchen,” he said loudly, rubbing his sore brow. “And I told you, no more formalities, you can call me Bilbo.”

“Are you alright?” Thorin’s limping pace hurried up, and a moment later, Thorin stood by him, one of his hands on the back of his head. “Come, you should rest — “

“I most certainly do not. I’m fine.” He made sure to look as painless as possible. “See? Not a flaw.”

Thorin harrumphed. “Have you slept yet?”

“No, but neither have you.”

“I have not gained a possible concussion.”

“Óin confirmed it wasn’t,” Bilbo said.

Thorin started fussing at once, holding Bilbo by both sides of his head and looking him straight into his eyes, far beyond a point of comfort for Bilbo. He did realise he started blushing, but it could hardly be helped. “It seems like he’s right… Nothing seems off,” Thorin mumbled. “Nevertheless, you must rest.”

Bilbo sniffed. “The boys should. They are impossible to keep in their beds.”

“Ah. Aye, they are.” A hint of recognition flashed behind Thorin’s blues, and he started grinning. “But I applaud you for trying. Dís and I never succeeded to keep them in their beds, either. You must have some… special charm, then.”

“Scolding,” he admitted. Luckily, it made Thorin smile. “Nothing else seems to work.”

“Indeed…” Thorin pushed some of Bilbo's hairs away from his face, having another good look at him. Then, he released him, and turned away. Bilbo let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “No casualties, then? They are both well?”

“As well as can be! What about yourself? How is, er… mountain business?”

“As mountain business would be,” Thorin told him teasingly. Bilbo chuckled silently. “Sit. Take a moment, I shall look after the boys.”

You wouldn’t hear him say no to that! But then again, Thorin looked just as weary… He had much more on his mind, Bilbo wagered. While he himself battled nothing more than an empty belly and a headache, Thorin bore many burdens, would have to look after all the people, the mayhem, the ruckus! Not that he’d been down there to lay witness to the current circumstances, but he could tell by the discoloured rings beneath Thorin’s eyes that things were more than dire. And he doubted Thorin would allow himself to sleep before all had been set right. Which, yes, might take him multiple years.

“Actually — Thorin?” he blurted out. Thorin halted his pace, leaning on his crutch as he looked back. “I’d much rather you leave this job up to me. Surely you have more important things to do.”

Thorin chuckled. “Beyond counting. But they are my sister-sons.”

Bilbo shrugged, folding his arms. “Fancy word for nephews.”

“Aye, I… suppose.” Thorin’s next chuckle was wrought with misunderstanding. “Is there something wrong?”

“I just… firmly believe that you should take some rest as well, the boys can be quite draining — “

“I’ve got it, alright?” Thorin said. His voice was a bit harder this time around, and Bilbo felt as though they had twice their impact, because Thorin also gestured with his hand for him to calm down. “Just a swift look. A fancy word for nephews it may be, but they are my kin. Would you not wish to see your children, were they to get injured during battle?”

Bilbo dared not answer to that. Instead, he only bowed his head. Thorin took it as his sign to leave, and visit Kíli.

Not entirely sure what had overcome him, Bilbo sank down onto one of the cold, hard chairs in the chamber, sulking away. He felt at such a loss, suddenly. And he never meant to upset Thorin, either! Goodness, what was he doing? Did he _ want _ to shoo Thorin away from him?

There was the thumping of a boot and the ticking of a crutch once in a while, but nothing much else than that. Bilbo hadn’t done much, either, worried that Thorin would be angry with him. But he should have known that he wouldn’t be.

Thorin did approach him with a growl, but only to feel his brow. “Sleep,” he pressed. “Please, master Baggins — “

“Bilbo.”

“Bilbo.” Thorin crouched down until they were at eye level. “You are selling yourself short.”

“I’m not, I’m simply… confused.”

Right on cue, Bilbo’s belly decided to rumble. “And no wonder,” Thorin said, moving away from him, straight towards the rations. “When was the last time you ate?”

Bilbo shrugged as his answer.

“Here. Eat this.” Thorin held up a strip of dried meat. “I realise we don’t have a lot right now, but you need more than we do…” When Bilbo did not reach out, Thorin cocked his head. “C’mon… It’ll do you much good.”

“I’m sorry... I was so very rude.”

Thorin sighed, partially with forgiveness, but also with a slither of impatience. “You are forgiven. And it’s no miracle, seeing you are both malnourished and deprived of sleep.”

It took him a moment, but he ended up taking the slip of goat meat from Thorin’s hands. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, Thorin… You look weary, and tending after the boys will only add to that.”

That made Thorin’s face melt a bit more. “I don’t need looking after. It’s a valiant effort, but I will be fine… I promise. I can look after myself.” The rumbles of loud coughing filled the stone chambers, so Thorin stood up. When Bilbo tried the same, Thorin shook his head at him. “Stay put. I’ve got this.”

Bilbo dropped his head on the table, accentuating it with a sharp yelp of pain.

What was he doing? The boys needed help, but Thorin did, too! And Bilbo still let him leave, made it so that Thorin pitied him, for crying out loud, and took upon himself this task! The very reason it was gifted to him was so that Thorin could look after all his other many duties!

Going against Thorin’s direct orders, Bilbo pushed himself out of his seat and moved towards Fíli’s bedroom. He stood in the doorway, watching Thorin sit on the bed with one knee, holding onto his nephew to quiet him, and hush him through. Fíli’s health didn’t look any more promising, currently… His mind was less muddled than Kíli’s was, but that did not take away the fact that he too was still hot with fever, and slightly delusional at that. It had been one of the reasons Bilbo had feared taking a nap.

Thorin left him after that, with another command of “sleep” before he was gone, back into the mountain to attend to his new duties as a king. It left Bilbo feeling cold, and lonely. Whatever it had been about Thorin’s presence, it had raised the temperature of these chambers by a couple of degrees, and had made it feel like a home, rather than a house…

And perhaps Fíli and Kíli like his own kin, rather than two friends…

Be that as it may, he did not halt his chores. He first cleaned all of Kíli’s wounds, tossing the old, dirty bandages aside and wrapping them anew, then going to Fíli, rinse and repeat, until he had his arms full with filthy cloths that needed washing. Badly. And if that wouldn’t get done, he would have nothing sterile and clean, so… it was quite the predicament, Bilbo thought, when he felt his headache play up again. The violent scrubbing didn’t help with that at all, either… In fact, by the time he’d done roughly fifteen out of twenty, he let out a small moan with every drag of the cloth over the washboard, his arms like pudding and head weighing several tons.

He hang everything up to dry and crashed down on one of the sofas, coughing when clouds of dust sprung from the piece of furniture. Bilbo was forced to get up, fetch water, and crash down again. And he was so very tired… and still so hungry, too…

“Ya know — “

Bilbo squeaked, flinging himself upright with scare. His head felt like it received a physical blow so he grunted, swiftly gripping it. Apparently Dwalin didn’t mind that as much as Bilbo had.

“There’s beds.”

“Bless me, Dwalin, you dunce,” Bilbo snapped at him.

“Dwalin — I told you not to wake him,” he heard Thorin growl from afar. “He needs his rest.”

“Aye, but he’s occupying my bed.”

“Your bed?” Bilbo exclaimed. “Excuse me, this is not your house!”

Dwalin got up, discarding the question with ease. Thorin, on the other hand, sighed and moved over. “I’m sorry, Bilbo, but for tonight, this is the house of many. There has been no spare time to clean other houses, for now we ought to share this space.”

Bilbo ran his hands down his tired face and sighed. “Very well,” he agreed, pushing himself up from the couch. “I’ll find myself another bed. Is there one downstairs? I need to be close in case the boys need me.”

“There is one,” Balin informed him. He came moving over with stars sparkling in his eyes, his hands set on his back. “I remember these chambers,” he hummed quietly. “My father and I would be here often, and we would visit Thrór.”

Bilbo mumbled incoherently to himself. Usually Balin’s stories were nice, but not now… Any time but now.

Apparently, these thoughts weren’t just his own. “We’re already tired enough, cousin,” Glóin muttered, “no need for bedtime stories.”

Thorin drew quite a guilty face when Bilbo looked at him again. “Is this it?” he asked, his voice a heavy indicator that he did not want anyone else to get anywhere near him.

“Dáin shall accompany us shortly. But they shan’t bother you. Once asleep, they’ll rest until dawn. How about you take the bed upstairs, hm?”

“Oh no, I don’t do upstairs,” Bilbo said, wagging his finger. “I want to sleep on the ground or below it, but not above, that is unnatural!”

Dwalin scoffed. “What’s the difference? You’re in a mountain.”

Thorin frowned at his friend. “We will give master Baggins the downstairs bedroom, there is no need for arguing,” Thorin warned him. Dwalin rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “They’re down the stairs, second to your left,” Thorin said to Bilbo.

Balin smiled. “To your right, laddie.”

Thorin wet his teeth. “Correct, to your right. My apologies.”

The crowd dispersed, all dwarves going into different directions — most of them went to visit either one of the boys, to be more precise. Bilbo vouched to pay no mind to them. Instead, glad that he could go and get some rest, he made his way down. The second to his right, indeed. And quite a spectacle it was, too! Those canopies were higher than The Hill had been!

Although, yes — he was exaggerating a teeny bit. In all seriousness, this chamber took his breath away. It was clad with gold, but it was so elegant and comfortable, something he would not have expected from this mountain. Bedding and drapes of blue velvet, tapestries on the wall, a huge hearth with its own entire sitting area around it, large chairs with the fluffiest pillows, even some carpets and rugs on the floor that felt warm between his toes! It was incredible, and a sight he’d longed for since he left his hobbit hole behind…

One he would... undoubtedly be seeing again, soon…

He sat down on the bed slowly, his head low. This was his opportunity to claim a bed fit for three, lie down in the middle and feel swallowed by a bed, but he couldn’t. Even in the midst of his exhaustion, he couldn’t close an eye.

It appeared that it hadn’t all been for naught. Somewhere later in the night, roughly one hour past the time he’d dismissed himself, the door creaked open. Bilbo looked up at once, peering through the darkness. He caught Thorin before Thorin had seen him. “Are they alright — “

“Ah — Blimey, Bilbo,” Thorin muttered, having jumped on the spot. Bilbo chuckled. Thank goodness Thorin could find the humour in it, too, especially considering how worn he appeared. “I’d thought you would be asleep.”

“I can’t seem to… What brings you here, Thorin?”

“I…” Thorin’s mouth was agape for a moment, ready to speak, but he ended up shaking his head. “I came to check on you.”

Bilbo snorted. “But you thought that I would be asleep.”

“Correct… But… ah…”

Bilbo smiled. “An excellent leader, but a shoddy liar.”

Thorin offered him a small smile. “One can hardly master everything.”

“Are the boys okay? Do they need looking after?”

“No, I simply…” Thorin paused, wringing his hands together. “Bilbo, I… I can’t seem to sleep, and I know very well why, which is…” Thorin sniffed loudly.

And yet, he did not continue.

Bilbo sat upright entirely. Thorin had caught his full interest at this point. “What? What is keeping you awake?”

“I spoke to Gandalf, a moment ago,” Thorin murmured. He finally dared to enter, closing the door behind himself. He did not, however, take a seat, something Bilbo desperately needed him to do. He could see the king tremble around his wooden crutch. “He shall depart two days from now, at the latest.”

“Oh…” This was news to him, too.

Safe to say that hearing this struck him. Hard.

“I don’t believe you are fit for travel,” Thorin mumbled at him. “You are not resting.”

“No, I… I suppose you’re right.”

“And if you were to leave now, I would feel… compromised.” Thorin finally took a seat on the bed. Bilbo could tell it was hardly voluntary, for he fell down as though his legs had given out. “I have many assignments ahead of myself. Many duties, many conversations, many meetings, many…” He could see Thorin go tired by the mere mention of these things. “Rebuilding, restocking, refurnishing, refining, restoring — “

“Thorin, please,” Bilbo said calmly. “Dawn will be in six hours already.”

His friend grinned weakly. “I have enough to do to last me until next month, without a breather… but I’m really worried about my boys — “ Thorin swiftly scraped his throat. “My nephews. I was with them. They are stubborn, as is the way they are crafted, but I fear for them. They would not drink, their reasoning being that you had already fed them some. All I could take from that was that, at least you managed to give them something. Anything. And I worry that others might not be as able.” Thorin looked at him with very precious eyes. A set that made Bilbo’s stomach flutter, and made him pinch the bedding a bit nervously. “They are very fond of you. I know I have no right to ask this of you, especially not after I…” Thorin swallowed away something awfully bitter. “But could you find it in your heart to stay?”

Bilbo sighed deeply, which made Thorin almost jump.

“I mean — not for long. A month, perhaps, or two. Nothing exceeding those numbers, you have my word.” Thorin quickly laid his hand to his chest. “And I — I reckon that has lost its meaning, but I swear to you, master Baggins — “

“Bilbo, it’s Bilbo,” he muttered. Thorin nodded like a child that had been punished. “Thorin, I’m not psyched about leaving. Not so very soon, that is. But if I don’t accompany Gandalf now, how must I return home? Surely I can’t travel such a distance alone, I barely survived it with a number of thirteen! There will be no sneaking involved, or secrecy, but I still don’t feel at ease knowing that I will have to go all the way alone… Not through or around Mirkwood, not over or underneath the Misty Mountains, and especially not through the Lone Lands.”

Thorin wavered his hand. “Kíli had been lying, there’s hardly any roamers there — “

“I’m not going home alone, Thorin, and I’m sorry… but if I don’t go now, I… don’t know if I can gather the courage or the strength again.”

Only a little croak escaped the back of Thorin’s throat when he’d wanted to speak again. He ended up sighing, instead. “You’re right. I’m sorry — it’s your call. I’m so very sorry.”

“It’s not like that — “

“Get some rest,” Thorin advised, pushing himself to his feet. “I should not have kept you awake, nor have disturbed you with such unnecessary matters,” Thorin murmured at himself. “I apologise, truly. Forget what I said.”

Bilbo bit down on his lip, feeling his heart pound with compassion. “Are you sure?”

Thorin glared at him for a moment before he turned away. “Good night, master Baggins.”

Fumbling with the sheets, he darted his eyes down, waiting until he heard the door close yet again. Then, he lied down, closing his eyes and pinching the pillow underneath his head. Sleeping was made much more difficult, now. It wasn't as though he _ wanted _to leave Thorin behind... and he felt awful for doing exactly that. He really liked him, and he liked the boys, and all the others... The thing that had made it easier for him to leave was knowing that, without him, the others would be well. That had been the one thing. But now...

He shifted around restlessly, unable to stop the overwhelming sensation of grief, and homesickness. Why had Thorin done that, he wondered, trying to close his eyes against what had just happened.

Now he was tempted to stay…


	3. Chapter 3

“Ah — curse these elvish rations, and their green colours!”

Bilbo didn’t even flinch anymore at the lettuce that went flying.

“Where is the real food?!”

“Here, try some of this,” Glóin said, handing over a basket in which lay half a slice of whole grain bread.

Dáin picked it up with a scowl of disapproval. “It’s rotten!” he shouted angrily.

“Aye, and sour, but it’s food,” Glóin exclaimed back.

Bilbo held tightly onto his own head, closing his eyes. Only a few more hours… Just a few more hours, and this would be over with… At first, he had been hesitating, but now he could hardly wait.

“Mahal, you two — keep it down.” Thorin grasped Dáin by his shoulder. “The boys are still asleep. Lest you wish to wake them — “

“If they ever do again! I wouldn’t, knowing there’ll only be pig feed for us left to eat!” Dáin wailed dramatically.

Bilbo groaned loudly, pulling at his hair.

“Dáin, enough. You are hurting master Baggins.” Now, he felt both of Thorin’s hands fall on his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

No. He was not. He was definitely not.

It was one thing to wake up to a howling dwarf prince, one that was begging for food as though he had anything to lose — and yes, Bilbo had the right to be cranky about it, and even more so the right to say that Dáin was overreacting, for he’d seen him gobble up most of their rations the evening before! A meal he sacrificed, because Dáin had said he was near to starving. Where had that left him? Ah, yes, six meals short on a day destined for seven!

Then, there was the night. The night in which Fíli had decided it was such a wondrous idea to go up and about, roam around out of sight so no one had the power to stop him! Because indeed, Bilbo had thought, it’s far more tactical to wake everybody up screaming bloody murder rather than to wait until the morning and ask for aid! Yes, it would be denied, and for good reason!!

Thank goodness this was during the night, because during the day — oh, during the day, when he was alone… Yavanna help him, because Fíli and Kíli were a handful. They were kind boys, but you mustn’t argue about that with Bilbo now, for he was absolutely fuming. And he had been the day before, too. If it wasn’t a plea for a foot-rub, it was an untimely comment about how dreadful he looked. Was he allowed to look after that? Most certainly not, for they would suddenly be thirsty, or hungry, or in pain. Such rubbish, Bilbo thought with a great huff. As though he was not in pain! He hadn’t seen straight since the evening before, and hadn’t slept well since after Thorin had barged into his chamber and begged for him to stay!

Which, clearly, had done him much good! Yes, so much good, even, that he was tempted to weep in the corner of his chamber and not come out again! Wasn’t that marvelous!

Thorin holding onto his shoulders right now wasn’t making it any easier, either.

He’d considered. Of course he had. Gandalf would be leaving this very afternoon, and so far, he was still determined to go with him. After all, if not for a ride with a wizard, how could he possibly cross half of Arda to get back home? Having traveled with so many others had been doable, but the thought of having to do it solo… well, no beating around the bush — it terrified him!

But he felt horrible because of it, too… The dwarves were showing him much kindness, and while the mountain was still mostly disorganised rubble, even in this mess Bilbo managed to find his comfort. Nothing like his armchair, but… his friends were here. They were obnoxious when he did see them, but they were here! And Thorin was here, which was significantly more meaningful to him… Thorin, who was clearly in disarray, and not solely due to the affairs and attention the mountain required of him. If anything, coming home looked like it was Thorin’s biggest chore. And Bilbo could feel it, as well…

There were many things that needed saying… None of which either of them wanted to address. Not yet. It was too soon.

Which was exactly why Bilbo was in doubt.

Escaping the company of Dáin and Glóin, he made his way over to Kíli. He was propped up against the headboard, bearing a frown. Great, even more to dampen Bilbo’s spirits. “You haven’t eaten yet,” Bilbo remarked.

Kíli shot a glance at his plate, as though necessary. “I’m not hungry.”

“Kíli — please, do me a favour here,” he breathed tiredly. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“I’m not, either! Why can’t I get out of bed — “

“Because you are gravely injured!”

“It is but a flesh wound.”

Alright. Kíli was not the way to go.

Bilbo made straight for Fíli, who was resting on his side, staring at the door as though he had waited for someone to come in. It appeared not to be entirely false, for he quickly leaned up on his elbow. “Bilbo. Good morning.”

Thank goodness! A civilized person! “Good morning, Fíli,” he said with a relieved sigh. “How have you slept?”

“Barely. My arm is aching.” Fíli rolled on his back, hands resting on his stomach. “Do you think I can get out of bed soon?”

Oh dear…

“No, Fíli, you can’t. Your leg needs to heal, you can’t put any pressure on it right now.”

Fíli shrugged. “I don’t mind, it’s nothing major.”

Bilbo ground his teeth, pushing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “No, no, _ no _.” Then, he groaned. “You can’t get up, please listen to me. You can’t, you are wounded, you are bound to bed — stop making this harder than it already is.”

That had Fíli wary at once. “I’m sorry, Bilbo, are you okay? Maybe you should sit.”

Yes… Yes, he should.

Bilbo sat on the edge of Fíli’s bed. “I’m sorry, I’m not myself — “

“That’s alright. Don’t worry, it’s been quite a few rough days. Do you wish to lie down, maybe? I have some room.”

Gladly, he decided.

He plopped down beside Fíli, on the bed. The boy was radiating heat due to his fever — and his nose had gone a bit runny with a cold — but it was already decreasing slowly, so there was hardly any reason for worry, Óin had said. Regular cleaning of the wounds and Fíli should be just fine, and they needn’t worry about him. So, for now, Bilbo made sure not to.

The two of them lied together, on their backs, staring at the cracks and lines drawn in the stone above their heads, a ceiling that had once been smooth, that was now crumbly and imperfect.

“What’s on your mind?” Fíli asked, a moment before he pressed a warm, wet cloth on his own brow.

“Oh Fíli, everything is… And the worst of it is that there really is no more room for anything, it’s already crammed enough as is.” As though his body was aware that he was listing his problems, his stomach begged for food. “Right, and I’m hungry.”

Fíli grinned weakly. “I heard Dáin complain. It’s hard not to… The food isn’t very edible, isn’t it?”

“If there is any to spare at all… Though I reckon Thorin is trying his hardest, he brings back home quite some, considering there is an entire mountain to feed…”

The youth shrugged, turning his head to look at him. “A mountain full of dwarves, but only one hobbit. Thorin is certainly aware of it.”

Fíli started coughing a moment later, so Bilbo leaned up to help him through. No matter how tired he was, the hacking coughs of the boys would never become normal to him. After having a sip of water, Fíli looked much improved already. “Drink some more,” Bilbo suggested. Fíli listened, chugging down the entire drink. Bilbo smiled broadly. “Very good, Fíli!”

In response to the compliment, he only got a growl quite like Thorin’s, but that did not matter. Óin had specifically said that the lads needed to drink more, so to him, this was nothing but outstanding!

He lied with Fíli until he felt regenerated, and tucked him in before moving back over to Kíli. He still had to drink some as well, and usually, if he would ask nicely, Kíli would listen. And if he wouldn’t, pressuring him into drinking always did the trick!

However, before he could slip into Kíli’s bedroom, he heard a rumble that did in fact belong to Thorin. Instead of intervening, he stood by the door, and listened. “Just drink — “

“I said no!”

“Óin has told you that you must — “

“And I am not thirsty!”

“Save me from your stubbornness or I will have your beard!”

“No — get away, I don’t want it!”

“Drink, Kíli!”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, you watch me — “

This was where Bilbo made sure to step into the room. Like he had feared, Thorin was already sitting on the bed with one knee, Kíli’s head in one hand and a cup of water in the other. Thorin had looked more merciful when slaughtering orcs…

“Dear me, what are you doing!” Bilbo cried, hurrying over. “You can’t shove the cup down his throat!”

“He’s not listening, otherwise!” Thorin barked. Kíli simply folded his arms and huffed with protest. “I swear, this child is keen on dying, by the looks of it!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and strode over. “Get off the bed, Thorin,” he said. Thorin complied at once, but not at all happily. “This is not how you go about looking after your nephews. Surely you wouldn’t appreciate it either, if they took you in a head-lock!” Thorin shook his head and sighed, so Bilbo cocked his head towards the door. “Go, I’ll look after him, as is my task. Surely you have much better things to be doing, things that nobody else can do.”

Thorin set his teeth together and hissed through them when he pointed at Kíli. “You will drink — “

“Thorin!” Bilbo said loudly, having had about enough of him.

Kíli snorted with amusement when he saw his uncle storm out of the room — or as fast as he could with that horrific limp of his. Bilbo did feel awful for seeing that, and for being so hard on him… But he knew that, while Thorin would also be a bother to Kíli, he would also be working himself up… It was best for the both of them that Bilbo set his foot down in this very instance.

“And no laughing,” Bilbo scolded, whacking Kíli’s shoulder.

The boy gasped. “Ouch. There is a wound there.”

“Please, that is your other shoulder.” Kíli wet his lips, not even denying his lie. “Kíli, your uncle is having a rough ride himself, you are not making this any easier for him. He worries.”

Kíli shook his head and grimaced. “He always does. It’s annoying.”

“He is your uncle. Of course he always does! It is his job!”

“I am not asking him for it,” Kíli said indignantly.

“No, you are not, and yet you shall receive. Your uncle cares a great deal about you, and the reason he needs you to drink is so that he won’t have to see you go to waste. He just put his own sanity at your expense, and you chose to be rude instead of thankful. Now we can do this two ways, Kíli — you can either be grateful that you have water to begin with, because believe you me, half the mountain is not as lucky — or I can leave you be, your uncle can leave you be, everybody can leave you be! You can see if you can save yourself when your wounds are inflamed and there is not a single soul willing to help you anymore.”

Kíli’s eyes flashed with concern briefly before he eyed the cup. It took no more than three seconds for him to hold out his hand. Bilbo handed him the cup, and just like Fíli had done, Kíli downed it at once, and with ease.

“Good,” Bilbo said, lightly patting Kíli on his thigh. “Thank you, Kíli.”

It took him a moment, but eventually, Kíli nodded at him. “Of course, Bilbo… I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“I know,” he soothed, squeezing his thigh gently and offering him a grin. “It’ll be over soon. You’ll be out of bed in no time.”

He sat with Kíli only a little bit longer before he met with the others again. Thorin was instantly alerted by Bilbo’s presence, sitting himself upright. “Did he drink?” he asked.

Bilbo bowed his head. “He has.”

“Ah! Mahal bless ya, laddie!” Dwalin bellowed.

“Indeed, we tried all night to get him to drink. Not one sip,” Balin muttered, shaking his head.

Bilbo looked at Thorin, suddenly feeling… almost responsible, in a way. A feeling he couldn’t begin to explain. Though, truthfully, the look on Thorin’s face said it all.

And for a moment, he felt a twinge in his heart.

Rather than to face it head-on, he moved away, going into hiding so he wouldn’t feel any added pressure. He was already in doubt whether he should leave or not, but as of now, he was still convinced that he should go. Having a look at Thorin, however, jeopardized that feeling, and made him want to stay. Not to mention that the boys only seemed to eat and drink due to his presence!

But no, he had to go, he had to.

There wasn’t much to pack. He’d been given a couple of things since they arrived in the mountain, and they made Bilbo smile. Every time he would point at something and say it was nice, Thorin wouldn’t hesitate to push it in his hands and tell him to please take it. The heavier side of that was that Thorin always ended that gesture with, “so you’ll not forget us.”

As though he ever would! But he understood why Thorin said it… And a part of him was afraid that, sooner or later… he would. Back in his old life, squabbling relatives and busy markets, who would have the time to think about adventures?

Bilbo slipped his mithril mail on his body, and had a long look at himself in a mirror. It fit him to a T, and while it was indeed armour, it weighed no more than his handkerchief. That, and it was absolutely magnificent. The actual value of this item was lost on him, but he knew very well the way he felt when he wore this, and remembered that Thorin had given this to him… In the midst of his sickness, no less. Had put his absolute faith in him, even while he was the one that would end up betraying him, and leaving him.

Just… like he was doing now…

Groaning, he sat down next to his leather bag, one that was almost entirely packed.

Thorin would have his friends, right? And Fíli and Kíli could be daft, but they would not starve or dehydrate themselves solely because Bilbo wouldn’t aid them. That would never happen! Thorin would manage, eventually, perhaps if Bilbo told him how to. Though he’d be occupied with other business… And yes, Thorin only trusted him, currently, but that didn’t imply that he would soon find someone else trustworthy! He wasn’t the only one dependable in this very mountain!

Carefully avoiding the others, he made his way upstairs, and to Fíli’s room. There, he smiled. “Fíli?” The boy looked up at him and grinned, as well. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“You really are leaving, then?” Fíli asked. Bilbo nodded slowly. “I hope you’ll have a safe journey back… Try not to antagonize any spiders or goblins, will you?”

Bilbo chuckled, taking Fíli by his shoulder. “I wouldn’t. Be well, my dear boy.”

“Be well, Bilbo,” Fíli hummed.

Leaning over, he smoothed his hand through Fíli’s hair, feeling oddly affectionate. Fíli gifted him one of his signature, loving smiles before Bilbo left, waving at him one more time before slipping into the room next door.

Kíli was lying on his side, curled up and staring in another direction.

During the journey, Bilbo had his fair share of urges to surprise the boy, be a bit of a tease at times, but now was nothing like that. Kíli didn’t look in the mood to be playful, no less optimistic about anything. “Kíli?” The dwarf didn’t even throw him a glance. “I came to say my farewell.”

This made Kíli roll around at once, eyes large. “You’re leaving?”

“I will,” Bilbo said.

“Thorin said you were going to stay. He knew you would.”

“He hoped I would, I’m sure,” Bilbo said silently, moving over to Kíli. “But I can’t stay. I won’t make it home myself — “

“I can bring you, if it’s too much trouble.”

Bilbo found it in himself to chuckle. “We’ll see each other again some day… This, I know for certain.”

“I’ll miss you, until that time comes...” That made Bilbo’s heart falter. “When will you come visit us again?”

“Perhaps one day, in the distant future.” He clasped his hand around Kíli’s shoulder, smiling at him. But it was difficult. “I have to leave. I have to.”

And he had to say this. Else, he knew he would start doubting yet again.

From that point on, it did not get easier. In the living area, the others were already waiting. All of them. Including Gandalf, who claimed to have roused the group and had rallied them all to this very chamber, so Bilbo could say his goodbyes.

With tears in his eyes, he let out a chuckle, setting down his bag. He hadn’t meant to give every single dwarf a thorough farewell — he’d thought it easier to leave if he wouldn’t. As though Gandalf knew of his doubts, which Bilbo was sure he probably would — he was a wizard, after all! Nothing got past him! But you would think that, if he did know, he would not make it harder for Bilbo than it already was.

Every company member he spoke to strung his throat tighter, making it nearly impossible to speak to the next in line. Leaving them behind was rough, very rough indeed, for they had been his family more than his blood had ever been. At home, he would have to deal with the likes of Lobelia, and after having dealt with thirteen dwarves who were, beyond all expectations, the nicest, most loving, and most loyal people he’d ever known… And now he had to leave them. Yes, he had to. The mountain was no place for him, and while Thorin’s offer had been more than tempting, the road home, alone, was too treacherous.

“Can’t we delay our leave?” he had asked Gandalf, as they moved over to the stables. “Perhaps by a week, or a month. My head is still a bit injured, I believe.”

“You are not obligated to come,” Gandalf told him, taking the reins of his own steed from an elf. “You are welcome to accompany me, but do keep in mind that I shan’t force you. Nothing shall move you but your own, free will!”

“And yet I am moving, and not entirely with my permission.”

Gandalf grinned at him. “You may stay here, if you so wish, Bilbo Baggins. I do believe they would all be happy to keep you here, would you make that choice.” Gandalf’s eyes diverted briefly, and then his smile widened. “One would be particularly happy, I do believe.”

Bilbo spun around, following Gandalf’s short gaze. Thorin was approaching them. No matter how elated that made Bilbo feel deep down, he voiced it with a moan of despair.

While Gandalf moved away to offer them privacy, Bilbo stood rooted on the spot. “Master Baggins, please wait,” Thorin begged of him, even going through the effort to hurry his last couple of steps. Bilbo did nothing, and said nothing. He simply watched Thorin slow to a halt, until they stood face to face. “Perhaps we can make an arrangement. I could see to it that you shall be escorted back to the Shire, when you feel that the time is right.”

Bilbo sniffed quietly. “You… could do that?”

“I will do it myself, if needed. But you mustn’t leave yet. You have yet to heal from your injury, and I need you.” Bilbo didn’t have the chance to blink before Thorin continued to sputter, “we, the boys, mostly. Fíli and Kíli — them.”

It sounded appealing… Awfully appealing. Especially if Thorin wanted him to stay, and was being so very insistent about it… “For how long?” he asked.

Thorin shook his head. “As long as you wish. Next month, next week, if you see fit. Just… not yet. Not now.”

“Why not now?” he whispered, voice etched with grief. “You are making this so very difficult for me, Thorin.”

“I know, and I am sorry, truly. I would never intend to make things harder for you, nor put you in such a treacherous spot, but Bilbo, I…” Thorin’s hand had looked as though it was about to reach out, but it never did. “I think it unwise for you to leave prematurely.”

“Prematurely for what?”

“We need you.”

“Yes — you said this before, but why? The boys will eat, they will drink. Erebor will rebuild, people will heal. What other purpose do I serve but to play maid in your home?”

Thorin’s lips parted, but he ended up sighing, looking away. Knowing that Thorin wished not for him to leave was so very touching, and a part of him was still screaming; he shouldn’t leave. He should stay, if only for Thorin! 

Only he couldn’t… No matter the sorry sight that Thorin currently posed, and Bilbo’s overwhelming will to comfort, and soothe him… He just couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry, Thorin…” He felt a lump grow in his throat, making it hard to utter another word.

So, instead of doing that, he surged forward and took Thorin in an embrace.

This was the second time for him to hold Thorin like this, but it was nothing like last time. Now, he too held Thorin, as though letting go would take both their lives, his head pressed against his shoulder and arms wound tightly around his body. To his utmost dismay, Thorin held him just as tight, if not tighter, needing to keep him close.

But that too came to an end. One all too soon, if you would ask him. A part of him wished that he would never have to release him again…

He did not say farewell, or goodbye. All he did was draw his bag over his shoulder and turn away, willing himself not to start sniffling. This was no sorry goodbye, he had to tell himself. It _ would _be if he would allow Thorin to continue his attempts to keep him rooted.

Sadly, he did not have it in him… This was simply not where he belonged, and he doubted that he ever would. Besides, if he would decide to stay with Thorin… he knew he would never see the Shire again, for he might not have the strength to leave him behind ever again.

Together with Gandalf, they climbed on their steeds, and no matter how much it pained him… they rode away from Erebor. Bilbo had looked back once, and he was in doubt whether to feel disappointed or relieved that he could not see Thorin. Perhaps he would have wanted it, but then again… if seeing Thorin was what he wanted, then surely he would have stayed, no?

“There is no need to worry, my dear fellow,” Gandalf told him suddenly. “You can always return.”

“But what if I am not welcome?” he asked.

Gandalf threw up his bushy eyebrows. “What makes you assume you shan’t be! They are still your friends, as you are theirs. No doubt they will miss you a great deal.”

Already he could tell that he would never feel any different. Whether they would be one mile, ten miles, a hundred miles away from Erebor, the feeling did not cease, and he managed not to comfort himself. If anything, the feeling only got stronger the farther they moved.

Before evening fell, they had reached the entrance of Eastern Mirkwood, where the path of the elves would lead them through the forest. Bilbo had hoped Gandalf would pick another route for them to take, since he had… well, quite the daunting memories of this place. Of course Gandalf, being a wizard and all, had quickly assured him —and scolded him for his lack of faith— that they would cross these woods safely. No elf nor beast would get to them as long as Gandalf was there to protect him.

They set up camp with a promise to conjure the forest in the morning, and travel through in daylight. Or, as much light as could possibly pierce through the thick bed of leaves.

That was not what had bothered Bilbo, while he sat by the fire, attempting to warm himself against the bitter cold of Rhovanion’s winter. For a moment he laughed to himself. He could hardly imagine having once thought that the mountain had been cold and unpleasant, because it wasn’t all that much better, here!

Come to think of it, Thrór’s bedroom had been splendid! It bore many comforts of home, along with some very fine chairs. Of course it did lack a garden, but it had something in there that was much better, wasn’t there? He could sit there with a book as well, by one of the stone hearths, feet on a poof and his pipe lit with some Old Toby. And while he had the markets and relatives in Hobbiton… he had a family and a home in Erebor…

All night he spent feeling distressed, this time not tempered by a bad headache, but by a sore belly, one that kept him nauseous with grief, and aversion. No matter how hard he tried, he could not calm himself or his uneasy stomach down, and the tightness in his chest grew with every passing minute. Gandalf sat against a tree, his large hat tipped so Bilbo could not see his face. One thought, and one thought only shot through his mind at the sight of the snoozing wizard.

_ If I leave now, he won’t see. _

A second later, he was cramming his belongings in his bag, and untying the rope from around the tree, where it had held his pony in place.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go to the Shire. Why bother going home if his actual home was behind him, down the road? Why bother going somewhere where Thorin would not be?

Bilbo cursed his height as he could not seem to hop onto the pony, but eventually he managed, dragging himself over its saddle, and sitting upright. Clicking quietly with his tongue, he steered her into the right direction.

“Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.”

He turned his head. Gandalf was peeking at him from underneath his hat, a smile drawn on his face bigger than Bilbo had seen it before.

He let out a short breath and smiled as well. “Goodbye, Gandalf.”

Then, he kicked the pony, riding straight back to Erebor.


	4. Chapter 4

The entire ride back, he had been in doubt whether he had made the wrong choice. Whether it had been an impulse, rather than a wise decision.

But it was not so, for when he could see the lit braziers, as well as the guards of stone by the gates of Erebor, he knew he had made no mistake. This view instantly gripped his heart and made him chuckle, a smile on his face that would be quite a chore to remove!

Yes, the Shire had been his home. He grew up there, and had lived there all his life… But circumstances changed. And while Bag End would always have a place in his heart, it could not compare to what Erebor could gift him. The walls were indeed of stone, and there would be no sunlight, but he could compromise; there was a huge balcony by the Royal Quarters, surely he could spend some time there! And outside — yes, he would live inside, but that did not imply it was forbidden to linger outside of the mountain! He could have a garden there, tend to some flowers, possibly some greens! Then he would go home with his arms full of vegetables, and be welcomed by many faces, all those who would have been looking forward to his return!

No doubt that there wasn’t a single soul awaiting his return in Hobbiton, or mourning over the loss of their respectable neighbour. The dwarves, on the other hand, would. And he had been oblivious not to think of this before.

The stable master — rather, an elf that happened to spend their time in the stables — took his pony from his hands, so he could rush back to his house without a care in the world. It was early in the morning. He’d been galloping, had made excellent time, but, well… calling it ‘morning’ was very generous. Nobody was awake yet, the mountain was deadly silent, and just as desolated as it had been with Smaug in it. There was something serene about it but also disturbing, but that only fed him more energy to get to Thorin as fast as his feet could carry him!

Very silently, he pushed open the door of his old house, having been given permission by two guards. The house didn’t differ much from the atmosphere in the rest of the mountain. Eerie and silent as a tomb… It was cold, a bit dreary, but — nobody on the couch! That was quite the improvement!

Bilbo moved first to the bedrooms of the boys. They were both asleep, but having seen them had set his heart ablaze, and he was warm at once, needing no fire in the hearth to do that for him.

Then he set his bag down by the sofa, assuming Thorin would now occupy Thrór’s bed, or one of his other many friends. The sofa would be well for now. Besides, what sleeping could yet be done at three in the morning? It was hardly worth the effort of getting comfortable!

Instead, he thought, there was still some cleaning to be done! It’d make them extra happy! Not only a returned hobbit, but also a clean home.

Bilbo made straight for the kitchen, but came to a grinding halt once he was in there. The house had been so awfully dark, he would never have thought someone would actually be awake…

Apparently, he’d been completely soundless up until this very point, because only when Bilbo stood still, Thorin looked up from his absent gaze at the table. As though he set eyes on a perished family member, Thorin lit up immediately, boosting himself from his chair. “Bilbo!”

“I couldn’t do it,” he told Thorin with a smile. “We made it to Mirkwood, but w — “

His speech was abruptly broken by Thorin, who yanked him into his arms. Chuckling, Bilbo held him in return, though safe to say he’d felt just as overwhelmed and shocked as he had on the Carrock! Thorin’s hugs could be a bit brutal to his back, he was so very strong. 

Thorin withdrew and gripped him by his shoulders, as though he did not believe what his eyes were telling him. “You came back!”

“I have, indeed,” Bilbo confirmed, his heart speeding up with fondness.

Thorin’s smile, both those on his face and in his eyes, shone brightly. “Are you well?” And then, in the blink of an eye, Thorin’s face wrought into a deep-rooted anxiety, and he held Bilbo by his head. “You did not return on behalf of your injury, have you not? Should you sit down?”

Bilbo chuckled quietly. “No, that’s almost resolved. Although, it has been better... But that is not why I came back.”

“What of your home? Your armchair, your trees?” Thorin asked worriedly. “Won’t you miss them?”

“I bet I will… but not as much as I will my friends,” he hummed. Thorin was smiling once again. “Speaking of them, where are they?”

“The others have settled elsewhere. We readied for them a different house, their bickering proved to be too distracting for the lads. They hardly slept anymore, and woke up too early, according to Óin. It’s just me here, now.”

Bilbo inclined his head, eyes soft with pity. “Then why were you sitting here?”

“I could not sleep…” Thorin held him by his upper-arms this time, grinning. “Something kept me up, but it matters not. I’m glad to have been here during your arrival. I would not have wanted to miss it.”

Having said that caused a silence between them, but it was not at all unpleasant. They exchanged only heartfelt smiles and a thoughtful glance, knowing very well nothing needed to be said to express what they were feeling. Although, a part of Bilbo hoped he wasn’t too transparent — perhaps Thorin would pick up on feelings that went beyond what he wished to convey… which, well… he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. After all, was he even certain about them himself?

“Come, you should get comfortable. Take the bed,” Thorin told him, gesturing to the stairs that led down. “I’ll take the couch for now. I have a meeting early in the morning, so this is a fair arrangement.”

“Will you not take the other bed?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin shook his head. “They took it. I did not think to have a need for it anymore, and while this house was well-equipped with plenty of beds, other houses were not as fully stocked. It has been taken to serve great purpose elsewhere, I do believe Dwalin has claimed it. He insisted, but I wager my sister will give him an earful about that later on.”

Bilbo chuckled. “How come?”

“It was hers,” Thorin hummed. That made Bilbo’s eyes pop open. “This used to be my home, too.”

“Truly! Why had you not said?”

Thorin shrugged, glancing around. “I found it nothing of importance… Old memories still walk these halls, and I had — “

“Bilbo! It _ is _ you!” Bilbo looked over Thorin’s shoulder, and Thorin turned himself around. In the doorway of the kitchen stood Kíli. Or, well… standing? More so leaning, draped against the wall for support, lest he would crash down.

At first, Bilbo had been uncertain whether Thorin had given his nephew permission, or not, to get out of bed, so he did not act. However, his question was swiftly answered when Thorin yelled at him something in their own language, and thundered over. Bilbo followed his step and ran over to Kíli, seeing Thorin was still limping awkwardly. “You fool, what are you doing out of bed!” Thorin barked at him, before he swept his nephew over his shoulder. Bilbo pushed his head underneath Kíli’s other armpit, so the both of them carried his weight. Though he was pretty positive Thorin carried most of it, if not all of it…

“I heard Bilbo’s voice, I had to make sure!”

From that point on, Kíli and Thorin conversed in Khuzdul. Bilbo did aid Kíli back to his bed, together with Thorin, but there was nothing to understand about their talking back and forth. More specifically, Thorin’s angry snapping and Kíli’s defeated murmurs.

Very carefully they deposited Kíli back on the bed. While Thorin dragged Kíli around until he was lying properly, Kíli found himself too occupied smiling at Bilbo. “We hoped you would come back! Fíli and I made a bet to see if you would return. Quite a challenge, because we both thought you would.”

Bilbo scoffed, even though he was touched to hear this. “How did you?”

“Uncle helped us out,” Kíli said.

Thorin rumbled, harshly tucking Kíli in with the blankets. “Treated me like I was their bloody raven.”

“I think he walked at least two miles back and forth, but he still did it!” Kíli chirped.

“Stop being happy, you don’t get to be happy, not after the stunt you pulled,” Thorin rebuked. Kíli’s glee fell at once. “You could have gotten yourself injured, you could have fallen down! Have you no concern for your own health!”

“I didn’t fall, all is well, isn’t it!” Kíli said loudly.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and stepped away when, once again, they started talking in their own tongue. A bit rude, if you’d ask Bilbo. And it wasn’t as though he hadn’t heard them scold one another before. But, it was the way of a Durin, he had been told, for their mutual affection was most often expressed by angry yelling and shouting at one another. Very odd, but if that was the way they ate their cake, you wouldn’t hear Bilbo complain.

Once the bickering was over and done with, Bilbo made a promise to Kíli to see him in the morning, in exchange for him to try and sleep. With that being dealt with, Bilbo felt more at ease to go downstairs, and take a bed. He did feel a bit dubious about stealing Thorin’s place to sleep, but Thorin had voiced no protest — he had insisted that Bilbo would take the bed. While Bilbo did truly appreciate it, seeing he hadn’t slept for… nearly three full days now, Thorin’s appearance had gone almost sickly-looking with exhaustion… Tomorrow he would get the bed, Bilbo had told himself. And he would not take no for an answer!

For now, this bed was a blessing from the Valar. The very second his head hit the pillow, he was out of it, drawn away into a very deep sleep.

Upon waking up, Bilbo was drowsy with sleep and dazed by disorientation, needing a moment to figure out where he was. Seeing the thick, velvet curtains drape from his canopy did help remind him, though curiously enough it had still left him a bit dumbfounded. Because he remembered leaving Erebor. Lucky for him he remembered having gone back, and having carried Kíli to bed, no more than a second later! Which was why he was quick to slip out of the bed, put on some decent wear, and climb the stairs up to the living area.

Bilbo grimaced, his eyes squinting against the bright light of the… sun?

He moved over to the balcony, surprised that the doors that led outside were wide open, and he had a full view of the plains of Rhovanion right before him! This house was one of the only ones with an actual window, and thank Yavanna for that! Bilbo closed his eyes, wound his arms around himself for warmth, needing to shield himself against the chilly winter breeze, and he inhaled deeply, glad to no longer smell the smell of battle, but of crisp, morning air, as well as faint hints of burning firewood. It only made him smile to realise that it were in fact the braziers, their smoke blown over in his direction.

How could he have been so blind. This was his home more than Bag End had ever been!

After waking up on the balconies of the house of Thorin, he made his way back inside, having a look into the chambers of the boys. Kíli lied sprawled out on his bed, limbs tossed and bent in seemingly impossible directions, but he was snoring, and contently at that!

Fíli, on the other hand, greeted him by whipping up his head. “Bilbo! You’re back!” he cheered.

Bilbo’s heart caught on fire with heat to see such honest elation on Fíli’s face. “Indeed! I couldn’t get myself to stay away from you wonderful lads.”

“Thorin told me you came back, but I did not believe him.” Fíli started pushing himself up. Taking notice of how much effort and strength it took him that Fíli simply did not have yet, Bilbo hurried over and aided him in sitting up. “I thought he had finally gone mad with exhaustion, and was seeing things.”

He sat on the edge of Fíli’s bed. “No, no. He has been through much, granted, but he would not make something like this up, I’m sure!” He could very well detect the small glimmer of doubt in Fíli’s eyes, so he made sure not to resume this very topic. “How did you sleep? I hope we did not wake you last night, Kíli had caused quite the trouble.”

“As per usual,” Fíli said with a cheeky grin. “The battle hardly changed him…”

Bilbo hummed silently. “You’re right. But we must be glad of it, hm? It’d be a shame to lose a fine lad like Kíli to war.”

“How did he sleep, then? Is he improving? I wish to see him but they won’t let us share a chamber, Durin knows why,” Fíli breathed. Bilbo cocked his head. “Do you know?”

He swiftly held up both his hands, needing not to be accused of anything. “I have no idea! That must have been a rule set by your uncle.”

“To be fair, he does have a valid point,” Fíli said with pursed lips.

“That doesn’t mean you have to agree with it.”

“Exactly! Thank you.” Fíli shifted a bit, letting out a soft, pained moan, cradling his sore arm. “I’m glad you’re back, Bilbo. This mountain wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

Bilbo let out a breath of sentiment. “Fíli, that’s so very touching. Thank you!” He patted him on his shoulder. “I would have missed you most, I think!” That made Fíli light up as well. Something told him that Fíli did not hear that often. “I never told anyone, but you’re one of my favourites of the company…”

A short, happy chuckle escaped Fíli, but he quickly turned it into envy. “Wait, who is the other?”

Laughing, Bilbo clapped his hand on Fíli’s shoulder again. “Well, I have to make sure to be in the king’s best graces, do I not!”

Of course this had been intended as a joke, but Fíli looked sincerely worried for a moment. “He’s not… lashing out again, isn’t he?”

“What? No!”

“Because if he does — “

“No, Fíli — I was only jesting, truly,” he swiftly clarified. Fíli didn’t seem too certain yet. “No, I mean — Thorin is a dear friend of mine, and we get along well!”

Fili sighed deeply, but bowed his head at him. “Very well… I meant no insult, Bilbo, I’m only trying to make sure.”

The doubt that crossed Fili’s face made him relent a bit more. “You shouldn’t worry. We’re going to keep a very close eye on him, hm?” They exchanged smiles. “I’m back now, and I will make sure that he’ll be well. I won’t be going anywhere. After all, that is my task, is it not? To look after you lot.”

Fili chuckled. “You’re right. I’m glad to see you again, Bilbo.”

“And I, you,” he said, feeling oddly affectionate. He bumped his brow against Fili’s.

In the kitchen, Bilbo found a note. It said — in surprisingly neat handwriting, considering it was most likely written with a lump of coal — that Thorin had gone to attend to his duties, and would leave the boys in his safe-keeping. Óin would stop by, there was food in one of the cabinets, enough for the three of them, and that water could now be freshly pumped by a pump not far away from this house, by the one in the middle of the Royal Quarters.

It was sweet that Thorin had left him a message, and it had not been for naught, either! Bilbo had found quite a guidance in these tips. There was a small storage of food in one of the cabinets, mostly beans. No meat, which made it unlikely that either Fíli or Kíli would touch their meal, but he’d make that work! The pump filled his bucket with clear, clean water, although having a sip of it wasn’t a lot of fun, for it tasted as muddy as it used to look. Those pipes were in serious need of some cleaning…

Fíli ate and drank accordingly, Kíli fought only for short before he pushed a spoonful into his mouth. What occurred after was something Bilbo liked to refer to as The Battle of the Beds, because Fíli and Kíli had urged him — no, begged him to let them share a room, for they would die of boredom before any infection would claim their lives.

Sadly, what could one hobbit do about this? If anything, this was the build towards the actual battle, for that came when Thorin actually returned home.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Bilbo moaned tiredly. Thorin hadn’t even hung up his cloak yet, but looked wary enough. “They won’t stop.”

“Oh dear,” Thorin groused. “What have they done?”

“Nothing yet, but they wish to share — “

“Absolutely not.”

Bilbo shook his head. “You don’t understand — “

“Oh, I do. I have seen them share one bedroom when ill, and let me inform you, master Baggins, they will use each other as leverage and make their way out — they are like a set of wild dogs, is what they are. They shan’t be sharing a room, and that’s final.”

But, of course, Bilbo would hardly have called it a battle if that had been the end of it.

Coming back here, he had expected never to feel warm, deprived of sunlight and heat, but he had broken a sweat within a moment, and was near to overheating when the chore was almost done. Thorin’s stamina was well enough, so he was only damp with sweat, but he looked more furious through his panting.

“I hope you two are happy,” he said.

“Absolutely!”

“Thanks, Uncle!”

Thorin spun around and stormed away, leaving only Bilbo, his breaths coming out dry and ragged. It would have been so much easier, had the beds not been so huge, and would not have required the strength of five dwarves to carry. Not to mention that Thorin had to actually bring a dwarf to the other room with a most horrific limp, for he would see his kingdom fall again before he would allow Kíli to walk.

But, the boys were happy, glad to share a chamber and have each other to entertain.

Bilbo draped down over the kitchen table, where Thorin had long crashed down, his head hidden underneath his arms. “Remind me never to have children,” Bilbo grunted at him.

Thorin snorted, slowly leaning up. “Trust me. _ They _ will.”

They both chuckled quietly.

“No, they’re kind,” Bilbo said softly, in thought. “It’s sweet that they rely so much on each other… It must be nice, to have siblings…”

“Overrated,” Thorin said simply.

Very well, that subject was tackled, then…

Bilbo got up to fetch them both some water for their parched throats, but Thorin sighed before he could. “That’s not entirely true, I value Dís above all else. And my own brother and I, we shared a bond much like theirs.” Bilbo grinned, pouring them both a cup of water. Once full, he sat down and handed Thorin one. “She shall arrive soon. Dís, I mean, along with the others. A raven came today, informed us that they are on their way. They have departed from Ered Luin yesterday, they are expected to arrive before the coming of spring.”

“How very lovely,” Bilbo hummed. “You must have missed her.”

“I have, indeed.”

“I’m nervous. About meeting her,” Bilbo said. Thorin smiled. “I wonder what she’s like.”

“She’s everything you might expect from a dwarrowdam,” he said, and while he had sounded humorous, he looked nothing if not proud. Thorin took a swig from his water — rather, he swiftly downed the entire cup — and then he pushed himself upright. “I’ll see myself to bed.”

“Already? The sun has only just set,” Bilbo said.

Thorin shook his head at him. “I’m tired, today has asked… quite a lot of me.”

Bilbo picked up his own cup. “You take the bed, then.”

“No, I shan’t.”

Bilbo grimaced at him. “Yes, you shall.”

“And what makes you so sure that I will?”

“I will make you,” Bilbo said. Thorin scoffed loudly. “Oh yes, and you may watch me if you will! If I can command the boys to do it, I most certainly can a stubborn mountain king!”

Thorin shook his head at him, raising his chin. “I am taking the couch.”

“No, you are not.”

“Aye, I am. Good night — “

“No, I said you are not!” Bilbo hopped from his chair and ran over. Thorin let out the happiest, clearest laugh he’d ever heard from him as he threw Thorin off his course to the living area, by tossing himself into Thorin’s side with his full weight — which, frankly, still wasn’t enough to cause even one, stumbling step. And he was injured in one foot, no less! “You are going to bed!”

“Bilbo, enough of this!” Thorin laughed, holding his hands up with mercy while Bilbo tried to drag Thorin’s weight towards the stairs. “Let go of me.”

Bilbo shook his head rapidly with determination, even though it stung. “You’re going to bed, or I am not a Baggins!”

Another loud laugh, and this time, Thorin took his own measures. One second it were Thorin’s hands underneath his armpits, and the other he was swept to the side, drawing a very unexpected laugh from his own lips as he was set down elsewhere. “Then it seems you are not,” Thorin teased. Bilbo gasped loudly when Thorin went as far as to briefly stick out his tongue at him.

“And that calls himself king!” Bilbo cried theatrically. It made Thorin laugh yet again, but Bilbo as well. Thorin had wanted to take another step, so this time, Bilbo yanked at his arm. “No — wrong way!”

“Bilbo — “

“Bed! Now!”

Thorin laughed. “Very well — if I must, I’ll sleep in the bed tonight.” Bilbo looked up at Thorin, and they gazed right into each other’s eyes. “I will.”

For a moment, Bilbo caught himself at a loss of words. Thorin’s face was alight with glee and mirth, something he hadn’t yet seen before… but he knew it was the most precious sight he had been honoured to behold… Years were taken off his face and he looked young, close to Fíli and Kíli their ages, as though no trauma had ever befallen him.

And it wrung Bilbo’s stomach like a wet cloth, making him feel a bit sick, but a most positive kind. A sickness of anticipation, and honour.

“Good,” he huffed, wishing not to make anything too apparent. “You — you should.”

“I will.”

“Then off you go. Shoo.” Thorin chuckled, bowing his head at him. “Good night, Thorin.”

Thorin smiled. “Good night, master Baggins.”

“I — well, have I ever! _ Bilbo _!” And when he whacked Thorin, it made him laugh anew. “It’s not that difficult!”

“Mercy me — alright, alright I’m going!”

Bilbo chuckled, watching Thorin hop down the stairs, a slight skip in every step. He bit into his lip through a smile that threatened to grow out of proportion, and he hugged himself, afraid the heat he felt throughout his body would seep out of him.

He reasoned with himself that going to bed was indeed a clever call, so he went to the boys. They were watching him with the biggest, most intent eyes, so Bilbo shook his head at them. “Don’t even say it.”

Both the boys chuckled, but obeyed, for they did not say one thing. But they hardly had to speak to translate what had been in their eyes, and on their faces. Bilbo was well aware of this.

While he managed to close the door keeping a straight face, it fell the moment the door was closed, and his face broke into that same, huge smile.

Why he had ever wanted to leave was beyond him…Yes, whatever had been in Bag End could have replaced every comfort in Erebor… but nothing was worth leaving Thorin, and the boys, behind for…


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo flung himself upright, hands clutching at the bedding as he forcefully inhaled breath after breath, his body trembling and cold with sweat.

It was just a dream, he thought, lying back down, regardless of how disturbed he felt. Nobody could harm him.

He quickly looked around, left and right, up and down, and stared at the door.

Correction. Nobody _ would _harm him.

Even so, no matter how hard he tried after that, whether his eyes were closed or opened, he could not find rest anymore. With a dissatisfied grunt he got out of bed, dragging himself up the stairs. Thorin was still asleep, which was great. If he would wake up, he would start fretting. Though he was snoring, that was good news — once Thorin started to snore, he was far away. Exactly where Bilbo needed him to be right now.

It wasn’t that he disliked Thorin fretting over him. Oh no, the contrary! And shamefully so, he heard himself think, because he liked it, more often than not! But it was the middle of the night, and after such a horrible dream, he’d rather take a moment of silence, which was precisely what he did.

In the kitchen, he pumped some water, and from the cabinets he drew a small bag of dried plums. It was beyond wonderful, having everything back on track. Or, well, enough so for them to have a decent stock! The first weeks had proven to be very difficult. For him, personally, there were the headaches, there was exhaustion, and there was, well… getting used to living in a mountain. While the lack of sun had made him lightheaded from time to time, a trip to the balcony had solved it every single time. Aside from that, looking after the boys went well! Sharing a room, they did not complain as much anymore, and while they sometimes refused to drink what Thorin handed them, Bilbo had found it was more for sport than anything else. After Bilbo had given them quite the parental scolding, they no longer played Thorin and did not refuse any of his efforts anymore.

Speaking of Thorin, he was doing a most outstanding job keeping this mountain together! It had taken roughly two weeks, but by that time he claimed to have fallen in love with his chores, and acting not as a leader, but a king. The name Oakenshield he refused to keep, and he preferred to now be addressed as Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain. This was not due to any amount of gold that made his sanity swim, nor such an overwhelming arrogance. Quite the contrary! This was for him to fully delve into his new role, and while he had taken some pleasure out of his old life, he said that he would not trade this new one for anything. While he said that the name Oakenshield bore with it many of his failures and shortcomings, his new title as a king made him feel some self-worth, and above all else, he had taken a liking in himself. Because of this, nobody even bothered calling him by his old name, no less remember it or write it down, not sung by any bard nor told in any tale.

But he was happy. He was calm, he was more patient, though no less stubborn. He was what Bilbo had found him to be in those small, fragile moments during their journey, those he had seen hidden behind shielded eyes in every smile, or every moment of vulnerability. Thorin was the most perfect roommate, and not just that… Safe to say that, whatever feelings he had thought might have been love, well…

They were. Undoubtedly. And every glance in Thorin’s general direction set off the rapid thumping of his heart and a handful of silly chuckles.

Fíli and Kíli… they were still Fíli and Kíli. They could walk, at least, but boy, were they… unchanged.

In fact, it made Bilbo frown the very moment he wanted to sit himself down, but instead found the table still full of someone’s meal. A plate full of bones and a mug half-full with ale. Probably Fíli, then. Such a charming boy, but so ill-mannered, at times. Especially when tired.

Huffing, he shoved all of it aside and plopped down. He’d deal with that later. For now, he desired to start his day without cleaning the dirty dishes.

Although, he didn’t have much of a saying. It started, well… as they always started.

Messily.

Bilbo sat with a particularly unamused, tired face, while Thorin, Fíli and Kíli moved in perfect harmony through the most hurried breakfast known to Eru. It reminded him much of his dinner with the dwarves back in Bag End, prior to their journey and their singing. There were plates filled with food, and those were passed around. Something that you wanted? Easy, you grabbed it and tossed it on your plate before handing the dish back over. Thorin was just as guilty of this, often with a piece of bread clasped between his jaws while he leaned over the table, handing one of the boys the plate next.

But it was nice, he reminded himself, it was homely! This mess _ did _always come together with wonderful, though hurried conversation. Sadly, he found it hard to enjoy it while having had such a poor night of sleep.

“Mm — I have to leave.” Thorin swallowed his mouthful and pushed himself up. “Be good.”

“Bye Uncle,” the boys said at the same time.

Bilbo did not even have the chance to say anything. Thorin waved at them once before turning a corner, only to slam the front door behind him a moment later.

Then there were the boys. Fíli was the first. “I’m going to take a bath.”

And he was gone.

Kíli stuffed his mouth with cheese, making Bilbo wince with a light distaste. Why did he have to do that every morning? Because of this, Kíli said something incoherent before getting up, and left as well, still busy chewing.

Where did this leave him, other than mildly disgusted?

Severely frustrated.

The table was riddled with crumbs and leftovers, and oh, how he wished the lads would suddenly burst into song, tossing the plates and cleaning the room. But they did not. That’s why Bilbo did not, either, not this morning. Usually he wouldn’t mind, but this morning wasn’t as usual.

“Kee, the bathroom is yours!” Fíli came moving into the kitchen, a towel around his shoulders, drying his hair. “Is everything alright, Bilbo?”

“I’m in no hurry,” he said simply, taking another slow sip of his tea.

“I can tell,” Fíli said with a quiet chuckle. Bilbo wanted to viciously growl at him for that comment. “Here — can you hold this?”

Suddenly, his vision was black. A wet towel on his head, great. “I’m not enjoying this very much,” he said loudly. But when he yanked the towel off his head, the dishes were no longer on the table. He spun around, seeing Fíli take all the plates and cups over to the sink. Bilbo eased out a breath because of it. “Thank you, my lad.”

Fíli hummed at him. “Sorry for being so inconsiderate. It’s mostly our mess.”

“Mostly? It’s all your mess.”

Kíli came swooping in out of nowhere, picking up a rag and dragging it over the table to clean it from crumbs. “Please, Bilbo, we were raised better than that,” he said with a scoff.

“You eat like Dáin’s swine, is what you do,” Bilbo muttered, but he did it with a smile. Then, he enveloped his hands around his warm tea cup, looking at them both. “Any plans for today?”

“I have to go and see Óin, which will completely ruin my day,” Kíli muttered, sinking down into a chair. “Then I was hoping to go out and meet Tauriel.”

Fíli leaned on the back of Bilbo’s chair, casting a shadow over the hobbit. “How’s it going?”

“Not all too well,” Kíli admitted silently. “She wants to talk a lot, and it’s… a bit dull, honestly.”

Fíli hissed. “Sorry, little brother.”

“Wh — sorry? What is wrong with talking?” Bilbo asked. He was answered with two blank stares. “Truly! Kíli — a foundation of a relationship is not built on only adventures, and adrenaline! To make it work, you need to sit down and get to know each other, too! And of course she wishes to talk, that is what you do with someone you love! And if you really do love her, you will be happy to listen!”

Fíli shrugged. “He’s not entirely wrong.”

“Of course I am not! You can’t build something real when you refuse to hear her out. If you think you are acting like a man by rolling your eyes every time she wishes to talk, you are wrong — if you are truly a good man to her, you do not only listen, but you engage into the conversation. That way she will listen to you, too, when you need her.”

“Or keep on ranting about bows and such,” Fíli muttered. “Because I have told you a thousand times already, I don’t care for it.”

Kíli nodded slowly. “You’re right… I — I suppose I could give it another try.”

“You should,” Bilbo hummed, patting Kíli on his hand. The dwarf started smiling. “I’m proud of you, Kíli.”

“Thank you!” Kíli hopped up from his seat, back to his ecstatic self. “Then my plans for today are seeing Óin, and having a lovely chat with Tauriel!”

Fíli hang next to him, their noses almost touching. “I was hoping we could go and have a look around Erebor, I think I’m finally ready to see all of the mountain!”

Bilbo shook his head and swallowed his mouthful of tea. “I’ll accompany Kíli to Óin first, but maybe after that! It sounds wonderful!”

And he was sincere about this. While the boys could be busy, and ask a lot of him, he liked moving around with them, and spending his days with them. As promised, he walked with Kíli to Óin. Kíli went on and on about Tauriel at first, but later they started speaking of his childhood, and many of his memories. At Óin’s, it was as per usual. The healer was the busiest in the mountain — every healer was, still, even weeks after the actual battle. Kíli had it well, Óin would always say, but they dared not forget a check-up. With his fever, his body had been weaker, and had barely fought the poison away at times. But now that he was almost entirely healthy again, he showed no symptoms of his poisoning, and as long as he would keep things easy and drink his daily medicine, he would be fine!

Then, he went out with Fíli. He was still a bit hurt, and while his sheen and arm had healed wonderfully, there was still something a bit off about the way he moved, at times. For instance, he could barely reach above his head yet, claiming his sore muscles were to blame. But he caught him in pain more often, so Bilbo made sure to help him best he could. He even carried some of Fíli’s weight as they were walking home, when he could very well tell Fíli was pushing through whatever he was truly feeling, and tucking it away in order not to unsettle his companion.

By now, Bilbo knew better. Of course he did. And he did not mind. In fact, looking after them was… something he very much enjoyed doing. He had no children of his own, and these boys were so wonderful! Not to mention so painstakingly grateful for everything he did for them! That certainly didn’t remind him of any of his old relatives, or neighbours!

In the evening, it was as cozy as it ever was. The fire in the hearth was lit. Fíli rested on the sofa, on his back, a book in his hand. The fifth he’d read since they got here. Kíli sat by the fire, admiring a braid Tauriel had made for him, and if not that, he would be busy crafting her something. It looked like it would turn out to be an arrow. He himself was sipping from his tea, staring into the fire or looking after the boys. And else, he’d put his feet up and pick up a Westron novel as well!

When the door opened, the party was complete. As he did every evening, Thorin hung up his cloak, kicked off his boots and fell into a chair. Nobody said anything, save for a warm greeting, and that was perfectly fine. Thorin held up his cup, and Bilbo almost automatically filled it up with some Valerian tea, smiling to see him sip from it, his eyes closed to get back to himself after such a hard day of work.

“You take the bed again,” Thorin told him suddenly, over the rim of his cup.

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s your turn.”

“I realise that, aye, which is why I am offering it to you, now.” Their eyes met. “Please.”

Very well, then. He’d learned not to argue with Thorin anymore, it was hardly of any use.

Bilbo went down early, and he suspected that Thorin had known about his early rise this morning. After all, what else could that small grin mean? Bilbo bade them all a good night before sauntering downstairs, and curling up on the bed. While it was very comfortable, Bilbo found the couch to be better, at times. There was something about this room… Had the bed not been in here, it would have been perfect, but alas. The air in this room always felt a bit foul, and he never slept well here. Granted, he would wake up with a sore back when sleeping on the sofa, but the fire would be lit, the others would move around early… It was much more accommodating.

Usually he would be awake for long, but not this time. He fell asleep rapidly, though was yet again haunted by nightmares.

As he had before, Bilbo stood in the midst of a field of ice, his hand quaking around his blade and the wind slicing past his skin. There was the beating of drums, distant and warbled by the blizzard, and everybody was far removed from him. Thorin and Dwalin were fighting, Fíli and Kíli were scouting the tower ahead of him... And no matter the amount of effort he put in dragging himself forth, his feet stood almost unmoving, while foes sped towards him, some crawling like spiders, others sprinting like bears... The sword would be too heavy to pick up.

This dream was the same every single time, but he was still terrified, and cried out when he could finally move. A cry that would rouse the attention of everybody around him. The same cry that would rally all his friends... and be the cause of the boys their injuries...

Bilbo mumbled and stirred restlessly in his sleep, incapable of facing this dream head-on, alone. He might’ve, maybe, but it was not the case. He woke up panting, frightened, and yet again feeling unsafe.

Because of that, he went upstairs, shaking weakly. He found himself going to the bedroom of the boys, as he sometimes would. See if they were alive, and unspoiled... That was usually the only thing to soothe his heart. But not today.

Today, Bilbo stood in the doorway for much longer than intended, staring, tremors shooting down his spine when he thought back of the battle, and their injuries.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that Fíli woke up. A part of Bilbo had meant to flee, leap out of the room just in time so he would not be caught, but much like in his own dreams, he stood rigid, incapable of movement, his fingers tingling with fright.

The very second Fíli found him in the darkness, he leaned up. “Bilbo. Are you alright?” Almost as an instinct, Fíli glanced over his shoulder at his little brother. Once he had made sure Kíli was unharmed, and saw him peacefully asleep, he looked back at Bilbo. “What's the matter?”

Bilbo wet his lips and shook his head slowly. “I’m… a bit disrupted…”

Fíli sat upright and gestured him closer. Bilbo sat down on the side of his bed, and Fíli scooted until he sat next to him. “By what?” he asked.

“By…” Bilbo swallowed, closing his eyes against the acidic flavour. “By almost losing you all again, I suppose...”

A hand fell on his shoulder and held it tightly. A gesture Bilbo still wasn't entirely familiar with, and almost set tears in his eyes. “We're still here,” Fíli assured him.

Bilbo started shaking his head at once. “I know, I know. Of course you are. And I know that. I _ should _know that.”

“You don't have to be afraid of it anymore, Bilbo. This was your first battle, this is no illogical response... but you are afraid of the wrong thing.” Bilbo's fingers curled into his nightclothes, his throat slipping shut. “We _ lived _because of you...”

“I have put you in danger.” Bilbo had never heard his own voice this timid and frail before.

Apparently, he was not the only one, for Fíli inched even closer. “Had you not alarmed us, we would have been trapped in that tower. There would have been no way out for us. Perhaps not the most heroic way of saving lives, but...” Fíli grinned weakly beneath his messy moustache. Bilbo always found that Fíli looked more mature without his moustache braided... In fact, somehow, it even helped making him feel more safe. “There's no harm in feeling this way. And I get it... I have frequent nightmares too, I've been told that's natural.”

“By who?” Bilbo asked with a soft sniff.

Fíli grinned. “By Thorin. Repeatedly.” There was a soft creak, so the both of them turned their heads. Kíli was still asleep, luckily. He was known for making things far more dramatic and complicated than they already were, so if anything, Bilbo felt rather blessed that Kíli was still resting. “I don't think you understand how _ thankful _we are, Bilbo... And if we are not saying this enough, I'm sorry... Usually I try not to speak on Kíli's behalf, but I will, now.” Bilbo chuckled weakly when he felt Fíli's hand pinch his shoulder affectionately. “The both of us will be forever grateful of your deeds, because that's what got us out of that battle alive...”

“And wounded,” Bilbo added.

“Much better than dead, no?”

Swallowing still hurt, but at least he managed to draw breath again with a bit more ease than before. He knew very well that Fíli was right, but that did not take away from the fact that they got hurt, and that Bilbo had been the cause of it. Saving their lives, maybe. There was no telling if they would have died, otherwise... All he knew was that, because of his cowardice, his shock, his lack of courage and his stupid impulse to scream, instead of running to safety, Fíli and Kíli ended up severely wounded.

And he found it hard to convince himself that this was a _ good _thing, or something that he deserved to be rewarded for.

Still feeling bitter, Bilbo decided to leave his burdens to his own, and let Fíli crawl back into bed. The boy had been so kind, offering to make some tea, or a bath, but Bilbo declined. A moment of solitude would prove to be fruitful, he was sure of it.

Just as he exited the chamber, he almost bumped into Thorin. Bilbo gasped and took a step back, where Thorin swept away as well, both his hands up in the air. 

“Oh – “

“Bilbo, I'm so sorry,” Thorin said, taking another step back.

Bilbo stood helplessly in the doorway, but felt that most of his tremors were overtaken by a pang of joy, and surprise, one that made him smile.

“I – I heard voices, I came to see if all was well.” Thorin scratched his neck after that, averting his eyes. Bilbo wondered if there was something he could've done to look any _ more _ guilty.

“All is well,” he assured Thorin. Afraid he might have woken Kíli up, he looked back into the room. Fíli was smiling at them, but Kíli was still far away, his mouth gaping open and breaths coming out like a purr. He closed the door behind him after nodding at Fíli, as if to say goodnight, and then rubbed his own hands together. “I only meant to check on the lads.”

“Hm... Any particular reason to do this at midnight?”

Bilbo hadn't thought it possible, but his smile grew. “I could ask the same of you.”

Thorin looked down, his eyes a bit wider with alarm. And, just like that, Bilbo felt warmth coursing through him again, and while there was still the slight chill of fear and regret, knowing that Thorin was here, with him, being such a goof... well, it only proved that Fíli was right. He should feel _ lucky _.

In this moment, he actually did. But it lasted a bit too shortly.

“You're right, I should retreat to bed. I have quite the day ahead of me, so...” Thorin scraped his throat, and then pointed at the bedroom door of the boys. “They were well?”

“As well as could be,” Bilbo said.

“Very well, then... Good night, master Baggins.”

Just like that, he was alone again. This struck him deeply once he was seated on the edge of the bed, downstairs, in a room that was dark and not his own. But sitting would not help, wouldn't it? Sleeping it off was perhaps the best he could do. That was why he decided to lie down once more, and close his eyes, needing the night to be over with.

Back in bed, Bilbo was just as uneasy as he had been before, if not worse! Sleep would not floor him like it had previously. Matter of fact, Bilbo found himself incapable of closing his eyes, afraid of what daunting dreams would await him. Even the dark was suddenly terrifying, and while he did light a candle, it did nothing to soothe that creeping fear he felt raging through his body. It had made him feel more conflicted, and frankly a bit ridiculed with himself — since when could he not sleep without a light on! He’d slain spiders twice his size, spoke to dragons and riddled with a weird goblin-like person!

No. Sleep was impossible. Wasting his time here until morning was an option, yes, but one he loathed to pick.

Upstairs he went, a blanket wound around his shoulders. He had in mind to find himself a book to read, but was distracted by Thorin, who sat upright on the couch at the faintest of noises that wasn’t his own. “Hey,” he said silently.

“I couldn’t fall back sleep,” Bilbo told him. Thorin’s face went somber with compassion. “I was wondering if I could sleep here. That room makes me very uncomfortable, and makes me feel unsafe.”

Thorin chuckled silently. “Need me to check it for monsters?”

“Actually, yes. While you’re on it.”

What had started as a jest turned into Thorin following him downstairs. There wasn’t any monster checking. At least, nothing too serious. Thorin had taken the time to play along, sweetly enough. Opened the closet, even sank through his knees and crouched to peek underneath the bed. “It appears you are safe,” Thorin said.

“I don’t feel it.” Bilbo hugged himself. “I’d rather sleep upstairs… I’d feel more at ease knowing someone is nearby.”

“Ah, well…” Thorin wrung his own hands together. “I am quite incapable of finding rest myself. Let me fetch a book, I will sit here.”

“Will you truly?” Bilbo breathed with astonishment.

Thorin smiled at him, bowing his head gracefully. “I’ll get myself that book.”

Bilbo had expected many things… but he had not anticipated that Thorin would actually seat himself in one of the chairs, open his book, and sit back, reading with nothing but a fur blanket covering his legs. Bilbo lay on the bed, staring at him for long. A bit too long, so much so he started wondering his gaze ought to be hurting that poor dwarf by now… However, Thorin showed no sign of displease, nor annoyance. He read. That was all he did. And he did this quietly. Bilbo admired him beyond belief at that point, not to mention he felt weak with adore. Thorin truly would check underneath his bed for monsters, and would sit down by his bed, watch over him all night…

Goodness, Thorin was so… perfect.

The staring had not been in vain. While it had served a wonderful purpose of keeping Bilbo warm and making him smile with love and a forbidden desire, it appeared that he had been the one standing watch, for Thorin’s reading ceased. Instead, he started nodding, his head bobbing with the effort to keep it up due to his exhaustion. His eyelids were heavy and falling, fingers laid loosely on the book, prone to losing their grip entirely… And yet, he did not settle for sleep. Thorin continued to shake himself back awake and would clear his throat, blinking hard before setting his eyes back on his book, this briefly before he started nodding again.

This was, by far, the most adorable sight to behold, but it wasn’t greater than his current concern. “Thorin.” The king snapped awake at once, eyes set on the hobbit. “Come to bed.”

“Right. My apologies — I’m dozing,” he muttered to himself.

“That’s why. You should sleep. Come.” He drew away the blankets, displaying an empty spot beside him. Thorin closed the book, but looked ever as riddled. “Please? You’re clearly fighting away sleep… Besides, this bed is big enough for eight.” He tried to make his case as compelling as possible, for he could see Thorin doubt. “Or is this against any traditions?”

“No, it’s… against nothing.”

Bilbo bit down on his lip, grinning. He’d be more than happy to have Thorin close. “Please?” he repeated. “You have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Well, if you don’t… mind.” Thorin set his book aside and got up, pulling somewhat nervously at his hem. He cleared his throat again, pointing at the barren spot. “Right beside you?”

“If — if you want, yes. There’s room aplenty.”

“Indeed…”

Bilbo shook his head. “If you don’t want to — “

“No, that — that’s fine. I don’t mind. But if you object — “

“I wouldn’t. I offered, after all…” he said shyly.

Thorin’s vocal doubt did not translate into his movement, for he was swift to slip underneath the blankets. Bilbo did the same, lying next to him. There was still quite a distance between them, but he had not expected Thorin to fill that, yet. That would have been too soon, of course! No, this had been a step. A small step, a daring step… but now he was looking Thorin right into his eyes while they lay together, and most importantly of all, something was changed. This wasn’t like the journey, waking up next to one another in such close proximity. This was more intimate, and to Bilbo’s utmost delight… it had not scared Thorin away.

That very same night, Bilbo had slept terrifically. Thorin’s presence had cradled him asleep like a charm, and had made him feel more safe than he’d ever felt before…


	6. Chapter 6

Oh… Was there truly a sight more captivating than this?

Bearing a tender smile, Bilbo picked up a fur blanket, gently draping it over Thorin while he slept. Ever so peaceful… When asleep, Bilbo could look at him for hours. So innocent, like an infant...

“When did Uncle get this lazy?” Kíli asked, and while his statement could have been perceived as a complaint, he kept his voice quiet and low so he wouldn’t accidentally wake Thorin. “He used to be awake… well, always. When Fíli and I woke up he was already there, when we went to bed he was still up and about!”

Bilbo moved over to Kíli with a quiet hum. “Perhaps, back then, there were less exhausting matters to be tackled. He’s a very busy man, you know, you should take an example in him,” Bilbo accused, tapping Kíli on his chest. “You promised to make your bed. Now it is almost time to sleep and the covers are still on the floor.”

Kíli showed something close to a pout. “I was going to.”

“You, brother, are a liar.” Fíli came trotting over, his hand continuously squeezing a firm, round sponge. “I’ve seen you sleep on the floor because you did not want to make your bed, Kee.”

Bilbo snorted. “Truly? You have?”

“Well — what was I supposed to do, mum said I couldn’t sleep on the bed until it was made!”

Chuckling, Bilbo shook his head and went back to the living area. Thorin was still resting there, but Bilbo could instantly tell that he was no longer asleep. Something was different, then. The way he breathed, the way he appeared to the eye… He had spent several nights with Thorin sharing the same bed, so he knew, at this point. And it had been nice, all those times… It had made it so that Bilbo was looking forward to bedtime. Sadly, Thorin had not reached out yet… Though neither had he, so he hardly had the right to complain.

When Bilbo went to pick up Thorin’s cup of tea, with the intention to replace the cup of now cool tea with a steaming hot one, Thorin’s eyes opened. Just like he had suspected. Closed eyes but an awoken mind. “How was your nap?” Bilbo mused.

Thorin stretched his body. “Clumsy. I shouldn’t have.” Even so, Thorin yawned. Bilbo was tempted to coo with awe. “It’s been a busy day.”

“Indeed, it has been. Let me fetch you some tea, hm?” Thorin smiled at him. “Though it seems like you’re in no need of it.”

“Quite the contrary. I would kill for a sip, if you have any left. You always make such a fantastic blend.”

Bilbo had to move to the kitchen fast to prevent Thorin from seeing his blushes. A part of him was dying to admit that he always brewed the tea exactly to Thorin’s taste, at the expense of Fíli and Kíli, who no longer drank it at all, because it was too strong for them — or he himself no longer enjoying his evening cup. But at least Thorin enjoyed it, which was of utmost importance to him. And he dearly, dearly hoped Thorin had not yet picked up on the hobbit custom of fashioning one’s favourite drink, or meal, for them… continuously… It was for the better, though — asking a hand in marriage might not be as obvious as what he was doing right now.

The four of them were sitting together again a moment later, around the fire. Every day the same, every evening more lovely than the last.

“Kíli, have you made your bed yet?” Thorin eventually asked.

Kíli pursed his lips. “Yes…”

Thorin stared blankly at him. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. It would be a shame if you did.” Kíli bit down on his lip, not saying anything. Thorin raised his brow at him and lowered his head. Bilbo eyed Kíli with the same expectant eyes. “I would have to tell Dís if you would.”

Kíli now averted his eyes, looking a bit more panicky.

“Your mother. Dís,” Thorin said loudly. “Who traveled all this way to hear that her son lied to his uncle. And she will learn that he slept on his own bedroom floor. Again.” That had snapped Kíli. Both Fíli and Bilbo laughed when Kíli hopped up, hurrying to his bedroom. Thorin sipped from his tea. “That’s exactly right.”

“I can’t wait for her return,” Fíli said happily. “They’re coming tomorrow, right?”

“Indeed, they are. The hall is almost ready to receive them, there shall be quite a feast.”

That made Bilbo look up. “What about them, would they not wish to rest? They spent almost two months walking here.”

“I don’t think dwarves are like your kind, Bilbo, there’s little reason for rest when there are still things to do. They have been informed of the party so they will have kept this in mind. Our mother especially will have, no doubt about it! Though, usually, dwarves aren’t as lazy,” Fíli said.

“As hobbits?” Bilbo cried with insult. Fíli’s eyes grew. “I’d have you know that it was your uncle here who was napping! And he is a dwarf!” Thorin shrugged away the accusation. Because of that, Bilbo recoiled. “Sorry — I didn’t mean — “

“Please, no hard feelings,” Thorin quickly assured him. “And Fíli, Bilbo is right — no need to assume anything about hobbits. Bilbo is always the busiest around here, and we ought to appreciate that more.”

Bilbo had to bite down on the insides of his cheeks when he felt that he started blushing. Fíli even went as far as to apologise, which was of course very sweet — but his mind would linger back to Thorin constantly, who would grin at him, his eyes bearing assurance that he would be looked after… And that he was, in fact, more than appreciated.

That statement blossomed in his heart until it was time for bed. Rather, when he chose to go to bed. Thorin wanted to head in early, so he could finish the last preparations for tomorrow, and was so excited to finally see his sister again that he wanted to sleep as soon as possible, so he could receive her quicker. Bilbo had, because of that, decided he should join Thorin at once, lest he’d wake him up on accident.

Thorin was already lying in bed when Bilbo was dressing into his nightwear. “I can’t wait,” Thorin repeated. He’d been saying it for at least thirty minutes now. Still cute, though, Bilbo heard himself think. Thorin loved his kin so very deeply… and he hoped Thorin would one day love him that much, too… “I have not felt this excited in ages. Although your return had come very close.” Bilbo smiled broadly. “I hope she is well… And that she won’t be upset that I let her sons get injured.”

“Fíli can already use his arm properly again, and Kíli shows no sign of weakness,” Bilbo comforted Thorin with. Even so, Thorin shifted around, not looking too certain. “No doubt she’ll be glad that you are all alive, and currently unspoiled.” Bilbo slipped into the bed, tucking his hands underneath his pillow and smiling at Thorin, who was staring up at the ceiling with his hands beneath his head. “I have true reason to worry.” That caused Thorin to look at him. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

Thorin grinned. “Of course she will. How could she not.”

“You did not, at first…”

To Bilbo, this had been as clear as glass. Thorin, on the other hand, flashed a set of eyes as though he was talking absolute madness. “I never disliked you.”

“Please,” Bilbo said with a happy chuckle. “Have we not already established that lying in this house is forbidden?”

“I’m not lying,” Thorin said, deadpan.

Bilbo was now the one to raise his brow. “Really?” Thorin nodded. “Oh really?” It took a second, but eventually, Thorin’s serious face broke, and he started chuckling. “Just admit it, you couldn’t stand me.”

“That is very untrue!” Thorin quickly said, but his face still betray his joy. “But it is you who must admit that you were indeed a very tedious fellow when the journey began.”

“What!” he cried. Thorin laughed, and had to roll away when Bilbo nudged him against his shoulder. “I was not! I was very decent and very respectable, you have barged into my home and you have thrown my life around, thank you very much!”

“You are very welcome, because I know you are eternally grateful for that,” Thorin told him with a fond smile. Bilbo chuckled at him. “As am I, for that matter.”

“Hmm.” Bilbo moved a bit underneath the blankets, though there was hardly any reason to be underneath them — Thorin’s smile was keeping him warm enough. “I — I am too, of course… You’re right, all that I had, back in Bag End… I mean — there were relatives, but I do believe I lacked… family.”

Thorin nodded once at him, his eyes large. “And… have you found that, here?”

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile. “Undoubtedly,” he whispered.

“Good.” Startled, Bilbo winced away a bit when Thorin suddenly rolled to his side, his back facing Bilbo. The hobbit huffed to himself. “Time to get sleeping. Good night, Bilbo.”

“Good night,” he said, knowing very well his voice sounded… almost a bit hesitant. Had he been… wrong to think that Thorin had shared their moment of affection? It felt like it. The way he had looked at him, the atmosphere between the two of them. Maybe he was too sleepy to think clearly, and he had read the signals all wrong.

Thorin curled up on the spot, so with a sigh, Bilbo rolled around as well. How silly of him… Of course Thorin took no liking in him… He was so very spectacular, and… well, what could he say of himself but that he was ordinary? Not a very appealing quality, wasn’t it?

Oh, what had he been thinking. He was so foolish. This was why he hadn’t acted. Why he did not dare to. The feeling was obviously not mutual, and he should have known. Now, he had a racing heart, thinking they had just shared a moment, but who was he kidding! Thorin had clearly not seen it that way, so… why should he? No matter how much it hurt, so much so that he could literally feel his heart ache with it.

He ought to tone things down. Tomorrow was an important day for all of them. Many dwarves from Ered Luin would return, Thorin would get to see his little sister again! It would have to be a merry day, so he couldn’t mope, and he certainly shouldn’t ruin it for Thorin! After all that he had been through, he wished for nothing more than to give Thorin his perfect day, so perhaps… perhaps he should keep his distance, then… He did not want to come off too strong, scare Dís, or make Thorin feel uncomfortable.

Yes, it stung. It stung badly. But Thorin was snoring by the time Bilbo started to realise all of this, so there was little he could do aside from falling asleep, so agonisingly close to Thorin… yet so far removed from him...

This was only in the evening. Despite those raging feelings, he had fallen asleep through the music of Thorin’s snoring, and had slept through the entire night. It was blissful, without a doubt, and he hadn’t felt this rested in a long time! Realising why this had been, on the other hand, was… arguably either the greatest thing or the worst thing.

Bilbo squeaked behind sealed lips when it dawned on him that, during his sleep, he’d crawled up against Thorin. He’d opened his eyes to nothing but black, and it had taken several moments before he understood that he had his nose buried in Thorin’s hair. Burning with shame, Bilbo inched away from Thorin, and very slowly so — he did not intend to wake him! What would Thorin think, knowing he’d used him to cuddle through the night!

Luckily, Thorin’s snoring never ceased, so Bilbo got away safely. That was the part that hurt… Knowing he would not be welcome, and having to quietly remove himself from Thorin’s warmth. Thorin hadn’t been holding him in return. After all, he woke up hugging Thorin from behind… but he could still feel his absence, whether that was right after, or minutes after. All he wanted to do was crawl right back, maybe feel Thorin wind one of his arms around him, draw him even closer… Oh dear, that would be such a dream…

But no, he was awake, so… that would never happen.

Because of this, the first thing Bilbo did was take a bath. No better way to start his day than to soak in a tub, and wash his trouble away!

He let the bath boil him like he was beef in a stew, with only his head above the water, from his nose up. He’d even added the scent of lavender. Not only did it relax him, but it had made the water silky soft… It even made it easier to withstand Kíli’s frantic knocking. “Mum will be here in less than two hours, if she sees me all messy, I’m dead!”

Bilbo grinned underneath the water, and slowly surfaced to answer, “I’m sorry, my lad. Just one more moment.”

“How long would you define a moment?” Bilbo chuckled silently. “Like… one minute, or two — “

“Kee, leave him be,” he heard Fíli say. “You know he likes to bathe in peace — “

“I will not have a chance to live in peace if mum finds my hair as a bird’s nest, Fee!” He could hear Kíli move away from the door, towards the voice of his older brother. “And it’ll look even worse when Bilbo is standing beside me.”

“Wait, why beside you? I won — I get to introduce him,” Fíli said loudly.

“Yeah, well — tough loss.”

“ _ I _ won, Kee, you’re being unfair — “

“Bilbo said I could! And it’s not like Bilbo would just say that!”

Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head slowly. Had Thorin not promised him that the boys would make him feel as though he didn’t want to have children?

Well… if they were doing anything, they were doing the exact opposite of that.

“Neither of you will.” Bilbo perked up a bit at the rumbling of Thorin’s voice. “I shall. He’ll accompany me.”

“What, just because you have him that mail, you get to show him off?” Kíli asked.

Grimacing, Bilbo sat himself upright. He’d not meant to listen in, but now, that was his sole objective. What about that mail..?

“He shan’t be wearing it, Kíli,” he heard Thorin say. His voice was significantly quieter this time, but… not necessarily in volume. “Partially because I need him not to. First, I wish for Dís to meet him. She will approve of him, I will give her no choice. Now off you go — get dressed already. And don’t disturb Bilbo while he’s bathing, will you? He’s told you before that the bath is his private time.”

It was, yes… But overhearing this conversation hadn’t made it last!

Bilbo stepped out of the tub right away, drying and dressing himself minimally in only some undergarments and his trousers, so he could step out of the bathroom appropriately covered. He caught no sight of the boys, but he found Thorin by the large mirror above the hearth, looking after his hair with one of his softer brushes. Thorin found him in the mirror, and smiled at him through it. “Good morning, master Baggins.”

Bilbo sighed with a relief he wasn’t sure where it originated from, and moved closer with a smile. “Two months. I’ve been begging for two months.”

Thorin chuckled. “Sorry. Good morning, Bilbo.”

“Good morning to you too, Thorin.” He had to battle the strongest urge to hold him by his shoulders and draw a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Are you ready to meet your sister?”

“I am,” he hummed. “I w — “

“No! I get to go — “

“Stop it!”

A second later, both Fíli and Kíli came running through the chamber. Bilbo gaped, whereas Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mahal save me from these idiots,” he murmured. It made Bilbo laugh. “One more morning, Bilbo. One more, and they shall undoubtedly live with their mother.”

Somehow, that had caused a jolt of surprise. “Oh! They will move out?”

“Of course they will,” Thorin said, as though this was the most obvious thing. “I wish for a house on my own, and they were really only here to be looked after.”

Bilbo swallowed. Oh…

“No need to worry, I am thinking of moving out myself, so you may keep this house. It is the only one with a balcony, already clean and already lived in. I would not dare transfer you to another house. You have only just settled here, have you not?” Bilbo’s tongue felt too thick in his mouth to respond to him. “I fancy the house to our right. Perhaps I should. Dís could have the one to our left. We’ll visit you plenty, no doubt.”

Was this… part of the deal? Had this always been a part of the deal? Because if so, then why had he not heard of this before?

There was a loud thunk, so Thorin spun himself around. “By Durin’s beard, boys, look out!” he barked in the direction of the bathroom. There came even more loud noises after that, so Thorin grumbled and stormed over, like only a father could.

Amusing enough as it was to hear the three of them bicker, the sound faded and turned to a ring in his ears while Bilbo sank down, until he seated himself on one of the sofas by the fire.

Thorin… wanted to leave? Fíli and Kíli would leave? All of them? How could he… How was he supposed to…?

Suddenly, the room felt cold. Icy. As though he was already alone, as though he was the only inhabitant of this house. The walls were made out of stone and the furniture was dull and dreary, everything was too high and too big… The furniture that the Durins would sit on was now empty, and Yavanna knew when someone would ever sit on them again…

“I told you to watch your arm.” Bilbo looked up, snapped out of his moment of despair. Thorin was taking Fíli along with him, while Fíli was holding onto his arm. Kíli followed them like a concerned pet. “It’s not healed properly yet, you are being far too uncareful.”

“It’s been fine for a week now,” Fíli said innocently.

Bilbo pushed himself up, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to savour every second, before it would be too late, and they would no longer be around. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Thorin ran his hand through Fíli’s hair for consolation while Bilbo took Fíli’s arm in his hands. “I only bumped it, there’s no reason to worry.”

“I recall the day that you first told me this. I am sure you do as well.” Thorin clasped both his hands over Fíli’s shoulders, and Bilbo grinned to see Fíli’s face darken with shame. “Then, a week later, you came to me, weeping with fright that you might never regain feeling in your toes.” Bilbo hadn’t meant to laugh, but did so all the same, behind his hand. The only reason he felt as though it wasn’t entirely misplaced was because Kíli’s booming laughter filled the room, and Thorin was displaying a most affectionate smile. “Come. We’ll put it back in the sling, and pass by Óin before we meet with the others.”

Right… the others.

Bilbo held Fíli’s arm, keeping it still and massaging it tenderly while Thorin fetched the sling that Fíli had been quick to discard. They would all come, they would inhabit the mountain. The boys would move out, Thorin would… He had no idea how he would manage living here on his own, he really didn’t.

Perhaps, then… now was the time. Now would be a time as good as any to leave Erebor behind. Go home, like he had initially intended. They were all together now, yes, but would that still be the same once they had all moved out? They would not share breakfast or dinner anymore, would not sit together in the evenings.

Huffing, Bilbo remained seated closely to Fíli, unwilling to let go of him just yet. And when Kíli tried to fetch some water, Bilbo called him back. He didn’t want to lose his boys, he really didn’t…

And when Thorin returned with the sling, the pang in his heart was physical, making him wince, and almost tear up.

But… first things first… He had to meet the others. Even if it meant that, in order to invite new people into his life… he had to see others disappear…


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh dear — “ Bilbo had to almost jump away, but he did so with a smile on his face. He could hardly blame these dwarves for being so happy!

The mountain was in uproar. Dwarves from Ered Luin had come to them from all the way to the West, and they were welcomed by a grand feast, and the king himself. Bilbo had melted with adore when he saw a black-haired dwarrowdam sprint towards Thorin, and had smiled with tears of sentiment to hear both siblings laugh. After that, one after the other had dashed into the mountain at seeing a face they recognised.

The company, of course, had been the first standing up front, and that was how Bilbo initially met the others. A gorgeous, short woman had dashed towards Glóin, as well as a lumpy boy, who he could only assume was Gimli. A mother with three children had made their way straight to Bombur, who took all his children in his arms and held them closely, kissing all their heads before he kissed his wife. Bofur’s red-haired lass leaped into his arms, and had nearly floored them both doing it.

It had been absolutely lovely. Right now, he was basking in the joyful atmosphere, hearing not one ill word. Everybody was discussing how glad they were, how welcome they felt back in Erebor… Best of all, though somewhat double to him, was watching Thorin, Fíli and Kíli buzz around Dís. Bilbo had not yet dared to come too close, but he could see she was a stunning woman who, much like her brother and sons, radiated pride and authority. She too consisted mostly of subtle smiles, but they were full of heart, and she rarely let go of her sons, continuously touching their brows and holding them by their hands, the two gestures Thorin had said were some of the most intimate for dwarves, whether this related to family, friends or otherwise.

No, he was quite fine observing from a distance… For now, of course, for he would love to meet everybody in person! And he would, but he found it only respectable to give everybody the time they needed. They would not have seen their kin in over a year, so he hardly found it in poor taste to grant them all the time in the world.

He was just scooping up some food for himself from one of the many buffet tables, when he heard his name being called. Bilbo turned around, seeing Thorin move about in the crowd. “Master Baggins?”

“Here, Thorin!” Bilbo held up his arm. It barely reached above the crowd… Goodness, he hated being so small! “Over here!”

Only after he’d hopped, Thorin found him. He strode right on over, but did it with a broad smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Well — fetching myself some food.” He held up the small plate. “Would you care for some?”

Thorin spent no time answering his question. “Come, you must meet my sister,” he said, sounding excited like a young child hovering above a freshly baked dose of cookies. “I would love for you to meet her!”

“Are you sure? Do you not wish for a moment of privacy with her?” Bilbo asked hesitantly.

Thorin shook his head, and then grimaced with confusion. “No, I have seen her all my life. I know her well enough. It is you who I wish to introduce to her.” Bilbo smiled, and even went as far as blushing when Thorin took him by one of his hands. “I have no doubt that you two will get along just splendidly.”

They maneuvered through the hall, straight towards many members of the company. Fíli and Kíli had detached from their mother and were sitting next to Gimli, and while they spoke with wild hand gestures and loud voices, Gimli had a frown drawn from envy. A sight that made Bilbo chuckle. He was simply glad to see the boys so excited again!

“Dís!” Bilbo’s confidence shrank a bit when her two big, blue eyes met his. “Allow me to introduce you to master Baggins.”

Not knowing exactly what to do, Bilbo reached out to shake her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, lady — “

Rather than to take it, Dís grasped him by both sides of his head, and bashed their brows together. The whole company laughed at Bilbo’s sudden gasp of pain. Safe to say that he was not at all accustomed to this, and neither was his brow! But he adored the gesture, and he was quick to hold her back with the same respect and fondness. Even though they had not introduced yet, Bilbo felt as though they’d known each other for years…

“So, you are the one that saved the lives of my men,” Dís said. Bilbo was pleasantly surprised — somehow he’d always imagined her with a pure, singsong voice of a woman, but it wasn’t so. It was a bit low, but strong, and fit her perfectly. “I wish I could express just how grateful I am…”

“There is hardly any need for that,” Bilbo said dismissively, grinning at her, and trying his best to look her straight into her shining eyes. “They saved themselves, I — I didn’t do much to help.”

“Don’t humble yourself,” Thorin said. Bilbo wished to push him away. “It is because of you that we live today! There should be no need to tell anyone otherwise.”

Technically, yes… He supposed Thorin was right… 

But then again… the boys got injured due to his stupidity…

No. He did not want to think of it. He shook thoughts of the battle away, and instead escorted Dís back to her seat, and sat down beside her. Now was not the time to think back on his mistakes, or his supposed victories. Right now, there was no war ongoing, so he felt at ease to have a chat with Dís and Thorin together. About how they met, about their travel, about… his ‘heroic deeds during battle’…

Dinner was soon served, and everybody partook in the meal. Bilbo was given the fullest plate of them all, and he realised it was thanks to Thorin, when he found that the dwarf had been awaiting his reaction. It was so very sweet of him, but at the moment, all it could do was make Bilbo’s heart ache, and long for… well, change. How he would have loved to have more time. Share the bed with Thorin, wake up cuddling again, but then maybe on purpose. See Thorin’s expectant eyes when they would eat together, just them. Maybe he would hold onto his hand more, and be as happy as he had been today, solely because of his presence.

Because of these emotions, the food did not settle well in his belly. Most of the evening he felt tense, and while he could very well feel the glares of not only Thorin, but many concerned dwarves, he paid no mind to it. He’d told himself that now was his chance, and if he would spend this time sulking, he would learn to regret it! But doing as much as looking at them made him nauseous with grief. He couldn’t do it.

They all went back home after their meal. Thorin did not follow him. Fíli and Kíli didn’t, either… They went straight into Dís' new house, proud to present her with it. Bilbo had arrived all alone in his now empty house, and had sniffled, standing still on the spot for almost ten minutes. This was it, wasn’t it? What the rest of his days in Erebor would look like. A small glimpse into a future that he did not want to see unravel. It was barren, it was desolated, and painfully lonesome.

Another ten minutes later, and he could be found in the pub. Everybody was feasting and drinking, which was according to plan. Of course they had kept in account the partying that would go on all night! Beer was served left and right, even some wine, but drinks like water and milk remained untouched. Bilbo would usually have some, but he denied having those as well. He needed something much stronger to wash his sorrow away.

Bombur was standing behind the bar, but to compromise for that fact, his family was there to help him. His youngest had been the one to hand Bilbo a mug, and had needed to stand on their toes in order to reach, but Bombur still praised them continuously, and when he wouldn’t have to serve anything, he’d sit down as well.

It was because of Bombur that, this very night, Bilbo was looked after, for he continued drinking until he had muddled his wits. Bombur had kept a close eye on him, of course, and had reluctantly handed him over his fifth mug. By the time Bilbo drunkenly asked for a sixth, he’d denied him his drink, and had instead asked Dwalin to fetch one of the Durins. Had it not been for Bombur, Bilbo would have passed out at the first swig of his sixth mug. Not having had that had kept him awake, though not entirely sane. Bilbo wallowed in self-pity until Dís came to him, and gently took him by his shoulder. “You should go home,” she hummed at him.

Bilbo sputtered with ridicule. “I know. I know. Home… But why…” He dropped himself on the bar like dead weight, so Dís wouldn’t be able to move him. Silly, clearly — Dís could still lift up her sons, if she had to! But Bilbo could not reason with his own rationality. “What is home… It’s… lonely, it’s Lobelia, it’s… dumb.”

Dís sat down on a barstool next to him. “Lobelia? I think you have had a bit too much to drink, master Baggins.”

“I don’t think so… I asked for another.” He squinted his eyes, trying to discover where the bar had gone. “It’s taking long… Who’s manning the bar?”

Dís chuckled sweetly. “Can you walk? It’d be less shameful than tipping you over my shoulder like a bag of rice.”

“Dís… Oh, Dís…” Bilbo sniffed, his nail drawing over the wood of the bar. “I don’t want to go home… It’s nobody there, and I liked having them there… Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, and Thorin… And now their mother has come here, and they’re moving out…”

“You don’t say.” Dís leaned on the bar now, incapable of hiding her amusement a moment longer. “What is she like?”

“She’s taking them away from me, I don’t like that,” he said silently. “Especially Thorin, he is to be with me, nobody else… I needed more time…”

“More time? To do what?”

“I want… spend more time with him,” Bilbo explained. He could see Dís nod, although very vaguely. “I want to, but he’s… going. He’s leaving. And he is going to…” Bilbo suddenly frowned. He had no idea where this thought came from, but he voiced it all the same. “I’m thinking I might get sick.”

Dís had laughed at that, but with no ill intent. She got up, and gently drew him off the barstool.

Bilbo stumbled for a moment before he was helped back up by sets of hands, and carried away. “Gently now,” Dís hummed. “Decide your own pace — “

“He should be with me, not her,” Bilbo said stubbornly, shaking his head as though this wasn’t making him more and more sick. “An’ — An’ when he’s with me, I get to love him.”

“Love him?”

“Yes… love him…” His head dipped, and he closed his eyes. “But he doesn’t me, and now he’s leaving, and I’ll be alone… But he’s likable, he’s courageous and I like him, a lot. And we share a bed and I want to cuddle, but I don’t think he wants, and it’s… stupid,” He kicked his foot like a toddler, huffing. “I was so close, Dís… So close… And now he’s leaving, and I’m not see him…  _ seeing  _ him again… But he would have been mine, and I was too slow, and now he’s leaving for his sister…”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry to hear that,” Dís cooed.

Bilbo nodded weakly. “I… He was so sweet, all day… Got me extra food, and held my hand… And I wanted to look at him but it made me sad, because he would leave… We — We’re sharing a bed! He’s ridiculous, Thorin is ridiculous, that he does not even pay mind to me. I’m handsome!” He frowned deeply, his head perking up. “I’m funny! I — I’m sweet, too!”

“Right you are, he is a fool for not seeing that,” Dís encouraged. Bilbo nodded wildly, but gulped because of it.

After that, Bilbo did not register anything anymore but the vague murmuring of voices. His feet moved by themselves, and while he started drooping, he knew very well that he was being carried, so it was not a problem.

Dís, however, had to stop moving when the hobbit began to sag away. “I think the halfling is slipping.”

“I’ve got him.” Thorin removed his head from underneath Bilbo’s arm, and scooped him right into his arms, keeping the now snoozing hobbit against his chest. Thorin looked down at him with a fluttering heart, a broad, loving smile on his face. “And he’s a hobbit,” he corrected, cradling Bilbo in his arms while he carried him home, not wishing to go anywhere else after he’d heard Bilbo say all that he had. “The most precious one there is…”


	8. Chapter 8

How very disgusting… This was not how he liked waking up at all! But then again, rather out than in…

Bilbo wiped his lips clean and cupped his hands to drink some water from the tap. It had been his own fault, of course, and he knew this very well! He remembered drinking his first… four ales. After that, he was uncertain how much alcohol had made it into his bloodstream. It mattered little, because he had, no matter the number of pints, absolutely wrecked himself. He couldn’t remember a single thing, which had only happened once before in his entire life. And that said a lot!

Ah, well… He was a fool, regardless. Probably the only one to get drunk, as well. And because of what? Because of drawn conclusions that had never been confirmed? About thinking that Thorin would leave while…

Although… he hadn’t seen him yet…

Bilbo made his way out of their privy, searching the chambers. They were empty. That was such a shame, he’d really hoped, deep down, that Thorin wouldn’t be so swift to move out.

Of course, as was a custom with a hangover, he did not prepare himself breakfast. He made his way to the couch and picked up a book. For now, he did not want to think of anything else. Of the absence of morning chatter, or the looming reality that he should return to the Shire. None of that. A book, some water, and his feet up on the table!

“Morning!”

In scare, he’d almost splashed the water in his own face.

Before he could look around, Kíli plopped down on the sofa. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

“Oh, er…” He blushed, clearing his throat before he set the book and his cup away. “Yes, I feel much improved. A bit of a headache, I will admit.”

“No surprise, you drank a lot,” Kíli breathed. Bilbo cocked his head when he saw Kíli grin. “Five full pints, I’m impressed! You really are one of us, now!”

Bilbo licked his lips, not knowing exactly what to say. Instead, he reached back for his cup of water, and took a small sip. “I had not expected anyone else to be home. I had figured that you would live with your mother, in another house.”

“She wished for a moment on her own. We slept here.”

“Oh! Fíli is here, too?”

“Aye.” Fíli came walking over, right on cue. “I’ve been in the study this whole time, I already wondered why you hadn’t come to greet me, you always would. But this explains it.”

“I’m so sorry, my lad,” Bilbo said sincerely. Fíli was right — usually he would seek them out in the morning, and if Fíli was already buried in books, he would bring him a mug of milk and a slice of bread. Had he known, he would’ve! “Good morning, then! I appreciate it that you stayed the night, I truly do. Did Thorin and Dís sleep elsewhere, together?”

Fíli shook his head. “No, Thorin slept here as well. He left early, there was some ruckus in the pub, as could have been expected.”

Kíli was suddenly beaming, leaning forward. “Do you miss him, then?”

“Ah, well… I noticed he was not here, that’s all.”

“Aww,” Fíli and Kíli both cooed. “That’s so cute!”

“I… suppose so…” He took a nervous swig from his drink.

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other, and then back at him. That did not sit right with Bilbo at all. They were acting very strangely… Not entirely out of the ordinary, he had to say, but… really, the only thing he could relate these faces to, was when they would play a prank on him. They would ever be harmless. Salt instead of sugar, filling a honey jar with beer, so forth.

“Are you not going to tell us more?” Kíli asked. Bilbo raised his brow. “Like — when did it start?”

Fíli plopped down on the sofa, next to Kíli. “And most importantly, have you already kissed?”

“I don’t think so, Uncle would’ve told us,” Kíli mumbled. They both nodded in agreement. “But — cuddling, maybe? While sleeping, this night?”

“That would be so sweet,” Fíli cooed.

Being met with their happy faces made him uncomfortable. He narrowed his eyes, finally starting to follow them. “What do you know?” he whispered.

“Only as much as the others do,” Fíli said.

“The… others?”

Kíli shrugged. “Uncle and mum.”

“And what…” He cleared his throat, shifting on his seat. “What do they know, exactly?”

“What we know.” Bilbo growled at Kíli. That didn’t clarify anything, didn’t it? “What you told us, yesterday. We came to pick you up in the pub, remember?”

No… He remembered no such thing.

Fíli grinned. “That’s right. Dwalin was suddenly at our door, saying you needed help. We all came to make sure you were alright, and we found you draped over the bar. Both Dís and Thorin tried to talk to you, although you were mostly ignoring Thorin, and only spoke to Dís.”

“ _ But _ , you made up for that by saying how much you love him!” Kíli chirped.

Bilbo gasped with shock, all the air beaten from his lungs.

Kíli must not have taken notice, for he continued on, “About how you did not want him to leave, and how he should be with you, not with our mother. He and mum carried you home over their shoulders, and you went on and on about things being unfair, and that Thorin was dumb for not loving you b — “

“What?!” Bilbo cried, panicked. “No, no — I have never said those things!!”

Fíli inclined his head. “You have. We were walking back home with you.”

Bilbo gripped onto his head, finding it impossible to breathe. Yet again, Kíli took little interest. “You fell asleep halfway through, though. Thorin brought you to bed and told us you’d murmured some more things, but he did not want to tell us.”

“He was particularly dismissive,” Fíli remarked. “And he went almost straight to bed, refusing to talk to any of us…”

Oh goodness… Oh dear goodness.

More, he did not hear. He couldn’t even begin to listen to it.

Had he… truly…?

Overwhelmed with a tremendous shame, Bilbo left the boys and went downstairs, back to his bedroom, where he paced up and down for almost an hour, and spent half of it wondering why he was such an utter dunce. How could he have told this?! None of this was meant to see the light! And to make it worse, not only Thorin had heard it, but Fíli, Kíli  _ and _ Dís had, too! Although no — that was not the worst of it. The fact that Thorin had heard it was undoubtedly the most horrifying…

And he had done it at such an untimely moment, too! While he was drunk! While he was being carried home — oh, how humiliating! There couldn’t possibly have been a worse way to tell Thorin of his feelings! He wasn’t charming when he was drunk, he was not considerate! And had the boys not said, just now, that he hadn’t even paid mind to Thorin at all while doing his confession? That made it so, so much worse… No wonder Thorin had gone to bed early, and left right after… He must be feeling awful. He must be feeling much more ashamed than Bilbo did, at the moment. Having to hear those things while his family was around, without being able to reason with him, or have a moment of intimacy, or privacy… What a horrible, horrible way to find out…

Bilbo wasted no more than an hour fussing. After that, he dressed up and left. He had to find Thorin. The longer he would leave this as it was, the worse it would become, no doubt!

First, he went to the pub. That was where he would have gone to, according to Fíli and Kíli. However, he did not find Thorin there.

Then he went to Dís, hoping that Thorin would go and visit her, maybe to talk, maybe to vent, maybe to express his feelings on the public humiliation. But Thorin was not there, for he had peered through the window — no matter how rude — and had seen Dís sitting with some other lasses. So no, not there either. Thorin wouldn’t tarry in the company of several dwarrowdams.

Next, he visited Thorin’s new home. It was not guarded, so it was unlikely that he was there to begin with. It was easily confirmed, though, all he had to do was step inside and call out for him. Nobody home…

The following places he visited were mainly their other friends, the throne, their vaults, because secretly he was still afraid to find him there, wandering among the gold. He wasn’t, luckily, but that did mean that Thorin could not be found.

No wonder, Bilbo heard himself think, when he next sat down for a breather. He too might’ve hidden from Thorin, had he so inconsiderately spilled his feelings. No, Thorin was right to hide… What else could he possibly be doing?

It was late in the evening when Bilbo staggered home. He was reluctant, because a part of him knew that he would find Thorin there. He’d usually be home at this time of the day, and while he had been busy searching for him from the morning, that did not imply that he knew the right words to say, or the correct thing to do. There was little to be done about his undignified declaration of love — he could only assume he’d slurred out the words, or had behaved like a child while doing so. He’d been told how he behaved when he was first drunk, and it made him cringe to think that Thorin would have seen him that way, no less would have to hear from him how much he cared for him… as more than a friend.

Upon arriving home, he found that he was the only one. Fíli and Kíli weren’t there, either… There stood a small dish on the table, though, filled with slices of dry sausage and cheese. Odd… but he still took a slice.

While chewing, he wanted to make his way to the bedroom, maybe crash down, but he stopped in the midst of his walk. He smelled smoke. Old Toby.

Following the scent brought him towards the balconies. He had a lump in his throat in an instant to see Thorin standing there, on the balcony, wound in a thick cloak and a pipe resting comfortably in the palm of his hand. Thorin would go out there sometimes, stand there and smoke, so he could brood, and ponder.

Oh dear…

Bilbo shielded himself against the cold evening air, but gently shuffled forward. He could be sneaky if he wanted to, but unfortunately for him, not quiet enough to sneak up on Thorin. His head turned when Bilbo wasn’t yet halfway. Bilbo came to a halt at once, but Thorin grinned, looking back ahead. “I shan’t bite.”

“I would understand if you do,” Bilbo said quietly.

Thorin puffed silently, blowing out some smoke and lowering his pipe. “I missed these lands.” Bilbo’s head perked up a bit, not having expected those words. “I used to stand here frequently, as a child, and adolescent. The view is stunning. Always has been.”

“But… it’s dark. There’s hardly anything to be seen,” Bilbo said, walking over to the edge of the balcony, and therefor Thorin. “And your eyes aren’t the sharpest, I reckon.”

“They are not what they used to be, no… Not since the light of Smaug’s fires almost blinded me.” He did not look down at Bilbo when he stood beside him. “I never took the time to think of the good that Smaug has brought. I never could. I was ever angry, resentful. But now that my fathers before me have been avenged, it feels… a bit lighter, somehow.” Thorin grimaced into the distance. “As though I don’t mind as much.”

“Oh?”

Thorin now smiled, looking down at him. “After all, we would never have met, would it not have been to slay Smaug.”

Oh.

“Thorin, I am so, so sorry for what happened yesterday,” he blurted out. “I had to hear it from Fíli and Kíli, because I seem to have no memory of it, but they said I — I said some things in your presence that should not have been said in such a poor manner, and I feel awful for having done just that. I would beg your forgiveness, would I not deserve the pain that comes with the — “

“I forgive you. Of course I do, Bilbo.” Thorin fully turned to him. “And I hate to think you are blaming yourself.”

“But… I deserve it…”

“What makes you think that you are deserving of anything painful? No.” Thorin shook his head, looking back towards the horizon. “You least of all.”

Bilbo swallowed hard, looking down, rather than at the gorgeous landscape stretching out before them.

“Do you see those?” Thorin was pointing at the sky, with the same hand that he used for holding his pipe. The embers lit inside of it were the first thing to draw Bilbo’s attention. “Five stars, surrounding that large one. We call that Moria’s Circle.”

He gazed at the stars. He could see the ones Thorin spoke of. Somehow, that made him grin. “They are wonderful…”

“Upon the founding of Moria, Durin the Deathless had seated himself against its doors with exhaustion, and pride. Tales say that the night was clouded, and pitch-black… The first he saw when the clouds parted were those very stars. Durin had believed that it was our maker, Mahal, praising him for his hardship, and gifting him his very own constellation, so his work would never be forgotten.” Thorin looked down at him, smiling. “It was my favourite tale as a child. I remember searching for stars myself, wondering if Mahal would craft one for me, also…”

Bilbo chuckled. He adored the thought. “Is that why you stand here so much?”

“Sometimes, aye,” Thorin admitted. “I stood here right after reclaiming the mountain… In my sickness…” Thorin’s head fell.

The atmosphere had changed drastically due to that, so to make sure Thorin would feel better, Bilbo pursed his lips, and then pointed up as well. “There are eight stars over there, they draw a line down, it kind of looks like a fishing hook. Can you see the one I mean?” Thorin’s eyes started searching at once. It took him a moment, but then he grinned, and nodded. “Fishermen in our town would always ask it for blessings. They would first pray to those stars before they would cast their line. Apparently, no matter what they were fishing with, the bait, or the size of the hook, it would not matter. A fish would be gifted regardless, even in a pond without fish in it!”

That made Thorin chuckle with delight. “Sounds like superstition.”

“But it made fishing fun,” Bilbo offered with a hum.

“You’re right… I’ve never been tempted to fish before for leisure, but now…” They both chuckled. After that, Thorin was the one to point away again. “Over there, a bit above Dale, by Ravenhill. A group of roughly six, clustered together.”

“That you can see them,” Bilbo breathed. “I can barely!”

Thorin chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s not easy, no, but I am quite familiar with their positions at this hour.” Thorin moved a bit strangely, so Bilbo looked down at Thorin’s feet. He was shifting his weight to one foot, so he could hold the other up a bit.

“Is it still hurting?” Bilbo asked with concern.

“Hm?” Thorin glanced down as well. “Oh, barely. No need to worry.”

“No — we should, Óin said that you still had to let it rest.” Bilbo took Thorin by his hand, and drew him along. Rather than to take him inside, he brought him to the wall, where he demonstrated his intentions by sitting down on the ground, his back against their house. Thorin chuckled, but moved along, sliding down until they sat beside one another, their eyes on the clear skies.

While Thorin shifted to sit comfortably, Bilbo pointed up into the sky again. “We have a constellation that we call The Hare, it’s right over there, not far removed from Durin’s Circle.”

“Moria’s Circle,” Thorin corrected, though he did this kindly, and without offering him insult. “And that is not The Hare, that is the Seven’s Blade. Have I ever told you about them?”

“No, I don’t think you have.” Bilbo rubbed his hands together for warmth, grinning. “Indulge me.”

“Are you cold?” Thorin asked seriously.

“Oh — it’s just the breeze, it’s no bother.”

Thorin took one of his hands, holding it between his own. Then, he huffed. “They are freezing. Come.” Thorin leaned forward a bit, undoing the clasp of his cloak. A moment later, Bilbo was blushing with the realisation that Thorin was trying to drape the cloak over the both of them. He leaned forward himself as an instinct, feeling the warmth of the thick fabric embrace him.

Once it rested over their shoulders, they huddled together. Bilbo smiled, crawling into Thorin’s body heat by resting against him, their shoulders pressed together.

“Give me those,” Thorin hummed silently. Nothing was said while Thorin took both his hands, and yet again warmed them in his own, like an oven.

Struck with serenity, Bilbo rested his head on Thorin’s shoulder, closing his eyes while having his heart throb in his chest. He’d never felt warmer in his life, and he never wanted this moment to end…

Bilbo sat unmoving against Thorin’s shoulder while he told his tale. “So, originally, it was called the Conqueror’s Bane, but after the battle, they instead changed the name to Seven’s Blade, for all the houses of the dwarves had been reunited for the first time in ages…”

“They are all such prestigious titles,” Bilbo hummed, his eyes on the constellation in the sky. “Most that I know are related to homely comforts, or hobbies. Or animals, I should say, but those could account for homely comforts. Except for that one.” Bilbo pointed up. “Those three stars, over there. Two big ones with a small one in the middle. It’s the Sight of Yavanna. That’s where she watches over us.” He nuzzled a bit into Thorin’s side. In response, Thorin wound one of his arms around him, and drew him closer to himself. Bilbo had almost chuckled with elation, but managed to keep it hidden behind his tongue. But only just, because for a moment, he couldn’t remember ever having felt any happier than he did right now. With Thorin’s arm wound around his shoulder, holding on tightly, but not unpleasantly so. “But we ask nothing of her, at least not directly… Having given us life is her greatest gift to all of us.”

Thorin hummed quietly, but said nothing.

Bilbo did not need him to. He found it just as wonderful to sit against his side, having been invited in his warmth. But he had nearly squeaked with glee when Thorin tried to pull him even closer, and upon finding out that it wasn’t enough, had laid his own head to rest on top of Bilbo’s.

“I won’t leave…” Bilbo closed his eyes and grinned, not only hearing Thorin’s deep voice, but feeling its vibrations rumble through his own body. “I’ll stay here, with you.”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered.

Thorin nudged their heads together. “I want to.”

Truly, Thorin was making it impossible for him not to laugh or squeak with love.

The two of them sat together for long, undisturbed. Thorin’s arm was still around his shoulders, and they were holding their hands together, both of them unwilling to let go. Bilbo’s body was ablaze with affection and happiness, but even that couldn’t do much against the bitter breeze that soon struck him. Both of them went back inside, and while Bilbo had felt awful about needing to disconnect from Thorin, it wasn’t destined to last.

They went to bed almost straight after. Bilbo crawled underneath the sheets, elated to have Thorin in the bed again, where he would usually have been. Knowing that he would be there the next night, and those that followed, made it easier, somehow. To look at him, to find his rest, to fall asleep.

But, even though he’d fallen asleep fast, he did wake up again when he suddenly felt an arm snake over him. He suppressed the urge to chuckle as Thorin moved towards him, and even drew him a bit closer, so they could rest together. And, to Bilbo’s utmost delight… cuddle.

A part of him was still shy, but when he felt Thorin’s nose in the crook of his neck, he did not hesitate. He rolled around, having startled Thorin badly. He looked spooked, wondering if he had done something wrong. Bilbo was quick to wash away that face by winding around him, in the way he’d been wanting to do for so long, now… He curled up against him, safe and protected, and smiled from ear to ear when Thorin gathered him into his arms.

Because of this, Bilbo could not sleep. All night, he was too excited, his heart beating far too rapidly for him to calm down just enough to get some sleep. But that was alright… He did not want to sleep through this moment, afraid that it would end too soon.

But it didn’t. He held onto Thorin, and Thorin held onto him… And, because of that, Bilbo was entirely convinced.

Thorin loved him, too… He would never do anything to hurt him. Most importantly, he would never leave… and neither would Bilbo…


	9. Chapter 9

Bilbo hadn't felt  _ this  _ embarrassed in so long.

They were doing nothing wrong. Quite the contrary! This was a sign of joy, a token of honour, but dear goodness, Bilbo wished he could sink through the floor never to be seen again! What was even worse than them all praising him like this, was undoubtedly the fact that he was most likely seated with a face redder than any tomato he'd ever laid eyes on!

His friends and kin were laughing, their foamy mugs having spilled much of their contents after having clung them together. All Bilbo managed was a very bashful chuckle.

He hated them for putting him on the spot like that.

“Happy birthday, âzyungâl,” Thorin murmured, lightly bumping their brows together.

But he  _ loved  _ Thorin for throwing him a party.

He was going even more red, not knowing how to respond other than an impulse to tell them to cut it off already... but a part of him knew that it'd be terribly indecent!

“Thank you, thank you.” Bilbo reached for his own mug, holding onto it a bit too tight. It wasn't as though it was at risk of falling, but Bilbo was at a  _ definite  _ risk of losing his composure. The dwarves had said many times they didn't mind the fact that Bilbo tended to complain when he should be grateful. But that was  _ them _ . Bilbo was still a Baggins, and he loathed to scold his very best friends for caring about him! He simply didn't know how to deal with all the love and attention, but that was  _ his  _ problem. Not theirs.

One thing he  _ did  _ know, though, was how to deal with the amount of love Thorin spent on him. That had taken much time, too. Thorin was, as it turned out...  _ incredibly  _ soft. And while some of that nature had flashed by once in a while when they were still simple roommates, now that they were together, on more special terms than before, Bilbo was being overwhelmed with loving, quiet murmurs, a sweet voice, and many apologies when Thorin feared he'd wronged him.

Perhaps that was why he dared not criticize them for anything right now. Thorin had hosted this party, and he loathed to make Thorin feel bad.

“I got you something,” Thorin said, when the heat had finally left Bilbo's face. One of his arms wound around his shoulders as he set a small box before him. Actually, a slim, tall box. Thorin was adorable, but not very subtle. Not after having given him a box in this  _ exact  _ same shape for at least eight times now.

Even so, Bilbo found himself gasping with surprise. Not by the fact that it was a piece of cutlery, but that, once again, Thorin had fashioned it so  _ flawlessly _ , his skill and craftsmanship getting better and better with every new item. Where the first one had been bulky and practical, the one he held now was elegant and full of intricate design, not made out of metal, but of the purest silver Bilbo had ever set his eyes on. “Thorin, this is absolutely gorgeous...” he breathed, fingers savouring every bump and crease on the handle as it slid down from top to bottom. “I... I don't know what to say...”

“I know you don't,” Thorin said with a warm smile. Of course he did. Bilbo never knew what to say. And yet, Thorin loved him for it.

He was perfect... Absolutely perfect... And Bilbo wondered if he could have been any luckier than he was in this very instance.

They shared a kiss, and Bilbo ended up settling into Thorin's side, admiring his newly gifted spoon. Thorin was sweet enough to keep him there, his arm still protectively wound around his shoulders.

Everybody was there. The company, as well as some of their kin. To him, most importantly, were that Fíli and Kíli, as well as Dís, were present for the occasion. Thorin had made sure of that, and the three of them were seated right beside him. Dís, he'd grown especially fond of, and it had taken no more than three weeks to feel like they had known each other for several lifetimes already! Constant chatter, sipping tea, sharing tales! Much like Thorin, she was a joy to be around, and while she could be firm, she too was filled to the brim with a mushy center, one she wasn't afraid to show when she was in the company of her kin.

When it concerned others, though... she was dangerous.

“Dwalin – stop stuffing your mouth will all those cookies!” she snarled viciously.

Dwalin answered with a mouth full of crumbs.

“She's right, leave some for Bilbo,” Thorin rumbled, drawing the plate closer. Bilbo chuckled when Thorin picked one off the plate, presenting it to him by holding it against his lips. After Bilbo had taken a bite, Thorin took the next.

Once he'd swallowed his mouthful, he smiled. “It's quite alright, there's more than enough.”

“No' anymore,” Dwalin said, still busy trying to chew away the four cookies he'd pushed in his mouth at the same time.

Thorin rolled his eyes, removing himself from his seat and picking up the plate. “Let me fetch more, then. I'll be right back.”

“Don't take too long,” Bilbo hummed. Thorin kissed him on his head before he walked off.

Bilbo missed him already.

Dís was the one to draw him from his mooning. “I'm so very happy for you, Bilbo.” She accentuated her sincerity by reaching out for one of his hands, that was resting on the table, and took it in her own. Bilbo grinned at her when she pinched it. “That you and my brother found love. You make for the most wonderful couple I've ever met.”

“Don't say that too loud, Kíli might overhear,” he mumbled.

Dís chuckled. “I mean it, no need to deflect the flattery.” Bilbo bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to smile. “I haven't seen Thorin like this in my life. He truly is a changed man, and that all because of you.” As they would often, Dís' eyes lit up, a set Bilbo had learned to recognise, but would  _ never  _ get tired of. “Not to mention that, if not for you, my men would not even be here right now.”

“I hardly saved them, Dís. They saved themselves! They're very capable lads.”

“Mm – no way.” At least Kíli had a slither of decency left to swallow his food before he continued speaking, “Bilbo, truly, we've said this many times. The tower was surrounded. Had it not been for you, we would have been dead! Thorin and Dwalin could not have saved us on time.”

Bilbo sighed when Dís drew him a bit closer. “Thorin might not have lived, either...” Bilbo nodded to himself, in thought.

“Why are you still upset about this? We're not hurt. Fee and I can train again, like we used to. Fíli's arm gets tired a bit faster, but that's all,” Kíli soothed, even though his face was wrought with misunderstanding. “Are you not happy that you saved us?”

“I simply find it hard to believe that it deserves praise... I am humiliated,” he admitted quietly, pulling at his own sleeves. “What good am I if I get my friends in danger? And when the fever kicked in...”

Fíli came over now, too, so he sat with the three of them. Bilbo wished for Thorin to return. They were great company, but he missed Thorin... He wanted to hold him. Badly. Nobody would comfort him like he would.

“The fevers have passed. The wounds have closed. We barely have any scars left to show for it,” Fíli told him, nudging a cup of water closer to Bilbo.

When Bilbo did nothing, Kíli shrugged, his action so very theatrical and exaggerated that his shoulders nearly touched his very ears. “To be fair, everybody got everybody in danger! I nearly beheaded Fíli once.”

Bilbo gasped, but Dís scowled. “You almost  _ what _ now?!”

“Almost,” Kíli pointed out. Dís was fuming. “I – I'm trying to say that, you know – it  _ didn't  _ happen, so why be upset about it?”

Dís took a moment, but let go of her anger with a huff. “I suppose you're right. Fíli  _ is  _ alive.”

Fíli grimaced at his little brother. “You never told me this.”

“Ah, well...” Kíli scratched his own arm. “You're alive, that's all that matters.”

Fíli licked his lips, seemingly just as bothered as their mother had been. Bilbo chuckled at the sight. No hobbit gossip would  _ ever  _ live up to the amusing, dangerous tales of the dwarves. “Aye, I am.” Fíli then looked straight at Bilbo. “Kíli isn't wrong. Friendly fire happens. Ask Dwalin, or Thorin, or  _ anyone  _ who has been swinging a weapon around. You can't always avoid to injure one of your own men fighting right beside you.”

“Oh, aye.” Dwalin broke into the conversation by pushing up his sleeve, and pointing at a tall scar. “Balin made this one.” Then, he pointed at a small crease on top of his head. “Thorin this one.”

Bilbo raised his brow. “And they were not upset about it?”

Balin, who had overheard – of course he had, because at this point, Bilbo wagered that  _ everybody  _ was listening in – moved closer, shaking his head. “Hardly. It can't be avoided. He bled a bit, nothing severe. That same strike slaughtered the orc that threatened to take his life!”

“So there was... no remorse, no regret?”

Balin clasped his hand on his younger sibling's shoulder, grinning fondly. “For protecting him? Hardly! I get why you're upset, laddie... but try not to be, hm?”

Dwalin and Balin dismissed themselves from the conversation; Balin with a wink, and Dwalin by reaching for even more to eat.

“I get what they're saying, but... goodness me, foes were everywhere – I get that you were lucky, but that's it!  _ Lucky _ ! I couldn't stand the thought of losing you lads.” Fíli and Kíli both smiled at him. “Or Dwalin, or Thorin, for that matter...”

“Especially not Thorin,” Kíli hummed.

Fíli elbowed his brother for the remark, but Bilbo heard himself sigh with recognition. “Yes... Especially not Thorin.”

“He's here, too... and he's yours,” Dís pointed out. That never failed to put a smile on his face. “And if you start picking up on the signals, he'll be yours, indefinitely.”

Bilbo raised his brow at that. “What do you mean? What signals?”

Dís picked up the spoon Thorin had gifted him, earlier, studying it closely. “How many has he given you already? Four?”

“This is the ninth.”

“ _ Nine _ ? Oh, my dear brother,” she said with a lovely chuckle. “These, Bilbo, aren't just gifts. And now that you look as though you have laid witness to a ghost, I can safely assume you had no clue of this?”

Bilbo shook his head, afraid of the consequences, but far too eager to find out what was wrong with Thorin's gifts to  _ not  _ take the risk.

“These are undoubtedly courting gifts. Thorin's mannerisms often catch up with him, and he tends to... make  _ sure  _ of things. The fact that he's gifted you nine crafts in the span of... how long, Bilbo?”

“Er... I – I want to say three months.”

Dís' laugh was full of adore. “Of course, I should have known. That sap. He loves you very much, Bilbo, and with every gift he has made for you, he asks you for your hand in marriage, as is our way.”

Bilbo sputtered out his next breath. “And nobody felt like they had to share this information with me?!”

“It's the small things you forget,” Dís said in her own defense, her eyes sweeping over the spoon. “I can't believe he's made this... It's perfect.” She huffed. “I hate him, he's always so good at everything he does...”

“Er – like asking to marry me,” Bilbo said curtly, tempted to scream, if that is what it took to get Dís' attention. “Me. Marry  _ me _ . Marry – ?“

Goodness – how did he breathe? How did people breathe?!

This was something he didn't know. He'd been filling his cutlery drawer with his new silverware, but not once had he spent  _ one  _ second thinking of this possibility. He and Thorin were on good terms. Great terms! But  _ marriage _ ?

Holy Yavanna, yes!  _ Yes _ ! Absolutely!

But when Thorin came back, and he wanted to cry out with joy... nothing happened.

“Here we are.  _ No _ – not you,” Thorin said disapprovingly, once Dwalin got up to reach for a cookie.

Bilbo stared at Thorin. His friend, his roommate, his king – the one he loved so very deeply wanted to make their bond sacred. Wanted the Valar to witness their feelings, and bind them together. It was perfect. Thorin was perfect. He truly was. And Bilbo was ready to commit. He never thought he would be, but now that Dís had shared this news with him, he did not know how to find the words.

After dinner, the party transformed into something more lively. Bilbo had promised himself to tell Thorin once everybody was distracted. Telling him was exceedingly more trying when everybody would be there to watch him blunder.

While the dwarves were in Bombur's pub, celebrating his birthday with ale and laughter, Bilbo was drinking away his nerves. Nobody stopped him, either. Bofur handed him a mug, then Glóin, then Nori, then Bofur  _ again _ . There was a drinking competition, which was the height of the party, by far, and Bilbo had a belly aching with laughter!

But when he laughed at the demise of one of his own friends, and enjoyed seeing them fall off their chairs due to alcohol... he was already rather far gone.

“Khajimel, come.” Thorin took him by his hand. Bilbo followed him with a stumbling step. “Perhaps it's time to go home, hm?”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, trying to straighten his vision, and look at Thorin.

Correction, he was  _ very  _ far gone.

“What's the matter?” Thorin's large hands cupped his jaw, his blue eyes flashing anxiety. “Are you going to be sick?”

“The lads...” He had no idea why he chose to say those particular words, instead of... literally  _ any  _ other to assure Thorin that he was fine. Then again, this proved that he wasn't, so... what could he have expected of himself, really!

Thorin chuckled, kissing him on his forehead. “Straight to bed, I see. This party has been a success.”

Bilbo wobbled on the spot, watching how Thorin bade everybody a good night. Bilbo didn't register much more after that, but if there was one thing he'd learned, was that Thorin would take good care of him if he was tipsy.

He had been right not to doubt.

The very next morning, Bilbo woke up wound in Thorin's arms. Yes, his head weighed twenty stones, and yes, he was queasy... but he found it in himself to smile, and snuggle even closer. Thorin perked up at once. “Are you awake?”

“Hmm...”

A hand groomed through his hair. “How are you feeling, akal yâsûn? Are you in need or something? A bucket, perhaps?” Thorin's chuckle vibrated through his body. “You partied a bit too hard last night...”

_ “ _ Please tell me I did not make a fool out of myself,” he breathed tiredly, pressing his head against Thorin's shoulder to ease his aching head.

_ “ _ That depends... Do you wish you have?”

_ “ _ No...”

_ “ _ Then you have done nothing.” Thorin kissed him very delicately, as though to keep Bilbo's headache in mind.

Bilbo squirmed in Thorin's arms to get comfortable. “That was new... what you said to me,” he murmured. Thorin confirmed it with a hum. “What does it mean?”

_ “ _ Future husband.”

_ “ _ Hm...” Bilbo closed his eyes again, meaning to get some rest, but the realization struck him so hard that it might as well have been a rock against his head. “ _ What _ ?”

_ “ _ I cannot wait to start the preparations... I've been awake most of the night, thinking.” Thorin pulled him closer in his arms, cheeks nuzzling together. “Would it be possible to invite your kin? I could gather some men, ask of them to retrieve your family, so they too can come to attend the ceremony.”

_ “ _ Oh...” Bilbo swallowed, uncertain it was this news getting him sick, or the alcohol.

Before more could be said, there was a soft knock on their door. The next thing he knew, Kíli came walking inside. “I'm sorry, Uncle, tulips won't work.”

_ “ _ That is such a shame… I'm very sorry.” Bilbo was honestly dumbstruck that those words were directed at him. “Perhaps other flowers?”

_ “ _ W – What?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper.

Thorin leaned upright on his elbow, and Kíli came moving closer, even though Bilbo really didn't wish for  _ anyone  _ to see him in such a poor state, not even his... well, his betrothed, it seemed. “You don't remember, don't you?”

_ “ _ I... don't think I do...”

Kíli's laugh tightened Bilbo's skull. “The best way to get you to talk is to feed you drunk, I see! I'll keep that in mind! You really don't remember anything?” 

Bilbo shook his head helplessly.

Thorin hushed Bilbo when he saw his eyes go wide with a light panic. “Don't worry, amrâlimê... If you wish to take back your words, that's fine... but during our walk back home, you have asked me to marry you. Not entirely as is custom, I will say, but you were very persuasive.” Thorin smiled at the memory, and Kíli laughed. Goodness, what on earth had he done... It must not have been very charming...

_ “ _ And you begged for tulips. Orange ones,” Kíli pointed out. “Though they can't be delivered before the coming of winter.”

_ “ _ That is no priority right now, Kíli. Thank you for making sure,” Thorin said, dismissing Kíli with it. Kíli took the hint and bowed his head respectfully before leaving them alone. Thorin sat upright entirely, and while it took some doing, Bilbo managed to move along. When Thorin saw how much effort it took, he sat against the headboard, drawing Bilbo into his arms, and allowing him to rest against his chest, where he held the hobbit securely clasped in both his arms, one hand continuously brushing through his hair.

Nothing was said. Not for a good while... and Bilbo was incredibly thankful of that.

Thorin asked nothing of him. Not for a long time. Not until, as though Thorin could feel it himself, Bilbo felt well enough to tackle the questions. “If you wish for it not to happen, you must tell me... I would understand if, due to the booze, you were temporarily rid of your wits...”

_ “ _ Are you mad? I want to be your husband,” Bilbo whispered. 

_ “ _ You do?”

Bilbo sighed deeply. “I simply can't believe I did it in such a manner...  _ again _ .” Thorin chuckled. “Dear me, why can't I just speak my thoughts when I'm sober. It's not that hard! Thorin, I love you, I want to marry you – I want to spend the rest of our days together!” Bilbo frowned in spite of himself. “See! It's not that hard, I'm saying it, right now.”

_ “ _ Very romantic,” Thorin said. Bilbo snorted and sat up a bit, looking Thorin in his eyes. He didn't seem let down in the slightest. If anything, he hadn't been this happy in weeks. The way he cradled his head afterwards was nothing but a confirmation of this very suspicion. “You do make it sound very simple.”

Bilbo swallowed hard, again feeling a bit nauseous.

No, it was not the booze... It was a frantic fluttering in his belly, one that didn't pair well with his nausea, but... one that stemmed from nothing but an overwhelming, unfaltering love.

_ “ _ I'm sorry to be such a coward...” Bilbo said silently. Thorin chuckled, his entire being lighting up at the words. “I want to marry you. I do. I – I want to be your husband.”

_ “ _ And you want tulips, then?”

When Bilbo whacked him, Thorin let out the loudest laugh he had, yet. And even though it hurt Bilbo's head, he couldn't resist to chuckle along. “You’re insufferable.”

_ “ _ Come here.” Thorin held him by his head, and even though Bilbo worried about feeling too sick to kiss, he found that to be the most useless thought he'd had to date... Thorin's kiss eased him back into his own body, made him feel calm, undisturbed, and removed from all his previous worries. There really was no pain when Thorin was around him... only happiness...

_ That's _ how he knew he'd found the right one.

After their kiss, Bilbo settled back against him, and let Thorin wind around him entirely.

_ “ _ Next time, though, if you have something to tell me... you can just say,” Thorin whispered.

Bilbo smiled, pressing a kiss on Thorin's shoulder, and after Thorin inclined his head to meet him, his lips. “Expect me to come home drunk when I have big news again.” Thorin laughed. “But don't worry... It'll  _ never  _ be something foul... I wouldn’t want to do anything that puts me at risk of losing you, or having you leave me… I do believe I no longer know what to do without you.”

_ “ _ Hmm...” Thorin's cheeks went pink, and he smiled, eyes gleaming. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you either, ghivashel…”

He held Thorin's hand, their fingers intertwining before Bilbo leaned up, kissing him on his lips. “You won’t leave me, then?”

“Only if you won’t, either.”

Bilbo nuzzled their noses together and they smiled at one another, their gaze impenetrable. “I would never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I dearly want to apologise for sending this in a bit late. There was a lot of trouble at home, and this Christmas, and some time before it, has been... quite a challenge for me. My head was often not in the right place to read and edit, which is why the story was a bit slow to come through. For that, I'm incredibly sorry! Especially to you, PrinceJellyfish... I do hope you're still happy with your gift, regardless of my pacing...
> 
> On a more lively, positive note, I want to thank you all so very much for the love and support that you have given me while I posted this story! I do hope it was fun to read, and I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! ❤
> 
> _And of course, as always, thank you for reading!_


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